


Black Feathers

by Voido



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe, Kidnapping, M/M, Slow Burn, Stalking, Torture, Tragic Pasts, University Life, all the evil shit basically, except that ends after like one chapter, graphic violence later in, mentions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-02-20 15:30:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13149585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voido/pseuds/Voido
Summary: After leaving his hometown to attend his desired university, Ventus has to learn the hard way just how easily a carefree life can turn into one of fear and horror. But why is it him out of all people, and who exactly is this frightening stranger who's trying a bit too hard to force himself into Ventus's life?





	1. Beginning of the End

**Author's Note:**

> This story isn't entirely new. I started writing the original in like 2013, although the first translated chapters are from 2015 or so. I'm currently working on everything from chapter 5 on, and since I'm not really comfortable with uploading stuff on ff.net anymore, I decided to move it over here.

_Well, of course it would be ridiculously enjoyable if my life went like plan just one little time._

_How did I even manage to get myself into this mess? Oh, yeah..._

 

Blazing sunbeams, lushy shimmering flowers and a beautiful fountain filled with crystal clear water were almost too much of a good thing to be real. Could he have found his place, at last? The place he belonged?

It was a little too good to be true, knowing that home had never really felt like it should have. His own reflection in the water reminded him of the family he left behind, the sad faces, the chastened mood, and still neither the pain nor the loneliness he had expected set in. If anything, they knew he was alright. And he knew they were.

And had the first day been great! Everyone was so nice and intelligent, worth his time. Finally something that he was interested in. The beautiful environment, almost like paradise, could it be more lovely? Probably not.

This place made him lose any will to have a home. Made him want to stay here any and every second he could. Of course he knew that wouldn't work out, especially with the things he planned.

He would still make it his personal haven, the place he could come to whenever he felt bad. His apartment wasn't far from here anyways, so it made sense.

Speaking of it, he should probably go there now. With all his excitement and nervousness he had had lost his appetite in the last days so he was pretty short on supplies. Unfortunately, he was equally short on money, so food was luxury for him at the moment.

Naturally, he could ask his parents but he didn't really want to bother them with this. They already helped him more than enough dispite the fact that they weren't exactly happy with his choice of studies.

He sighed and got up to leave his newly found sanctuary in order to get himself something to eat at home. The way out of the gorgeous park looked to him as if it were made out of pure gold. How lucky he was to live that near to a place like this.

_Wasn't destiny beautiful sometimes?_

This city was pure idyll, pure life, pure emotion. There were so many happy people it almost felt like the unhappy ones were non-existent. It was ironic. He had never been one to believe in perfection.

Not far now, he thought while thinking through what he was going to eat for the next week or so. Bread, butter, confiture, so far so good. Breakfast was important. He didn't really care much about the evening, he was a terrible cook so packet soup would probably do. He only worried about the university's canteen.

Oh well, maybe he wouldn't eat there at all!

He turned the corner and even before he saw what lay ahead of him, he felt a tingle, adrenaline, excitement and even anger flow through his body and stagnated for a moment, lost in shock, like a trance. Where did that come from? As his sight cleared up, he had a theory.

Because he would probably never in his life be able to forget those eyes. Gilded like heaven, veiled like hell.

„Ventus.“

Icy cold wasn't enough to describe the tearing shiver running down his back. What had he feared more than to ever meet this guy again, for which he had only met him randomly at the university? The day would presumably have been too easy, too nice, too perfect.

_Wasn't destiny nasty sometimes?_

He shook his head in disbelief. Shouldn't he have known it? Lady luck surely wasn't on his side anymore.

As if he were able to read his thoughts, Ventus's counterpart grinned thus sardonically that it almost caused him nausea.

„What's up?“, the blonde asked trying to stay cool, hoping this guy was just mistaken in some way. Wanted to turn someone else's life into hell. He begged there was mercy for him somewhere.

„Oh, why so cold? I thought someone new, like you, would have trouble finding the way back home.“

„Err...no, I'm fine...“

„What a pity.“

The barely taller man took a few steps back in the direction he had just come from and in the last second, Ventus hoped he just wouldn't stop. But again, he was disappointed. Instead, the guy stopped exactly where Ven had hoped he wouldn't. In front of the house in which his own apartment lay.

Oh heaven, what had he gotten himself into this time? How did this weird guy know...how? It wasn't like the university was allowed to hand out his personal data just like that. It was damn scary...

„I guess you'll have to entertain me in another way then, now that I was willing to make it for you.“

„Why would I do that?“

„You sure don't want to get on my bad side, do you?“

The only thing Ven knew was that he wanted was to get off of the street because this guy just really freaked him out. Even the way he spoke. So...narcistically.

Thus he walked past the guy, knowing he would follow him. That wasn't good to begin with, but he had a weird feeling that locking him out wouldn't be the best idea either. He wasn't good with strangers, especially with putting them in their place.

This was the main reason he didn't exactly see any chance to keep him out of his apartment. It was a strangling feeling. He had to call the police, they would settle this, right?

„You sure don't care about tidying up once in a while, do you?“, he was asked the second they got in and would have countered something but that guy had already let himself drop on the sofa. How could one person be that...cheeky? Only his black hair, that spiky mess, was visible over the backrest of the furniture. They didn't look soft and curly like his own, rather brutal and dangerous. Actually fitting. Still, this adolescent style just didn't quite want to fit him.

Ven's problem was another one, though. He walked around the sofa and saw what he had feared to see. Feet. No, even worse, shoes. On his sofa. Dirty shoes. That did it, he was angered to the maximum and without any warning pulled the guy's feet off of the fabric.

„Wow. There is temper inside you after all.“

„Look, if you really have to get on my nerves, just leave the furniture alone!“

„Whatever.“

By the looks of it, the raven had already gotten bored in this place anyway, got up and went to the kitchen without even asking for permission. Exactly how dumb was Ven to let this happen? What stopped him from kicking this guy out of his apartment?

„The fridge is empty. Is there any explainable reason for this circumstance?“

„Ever heard of financial difficulties? Stupid. I didn't even allow you to touch anything. Just eat at home. What do you what from me?“

„Could you stop being so uptight? Gee, you're complicated.“

With those words the monster approached him again, laying a hand on his shoulder. It burned without hurting him and he didn't like it. As if being in a trance, Ventus only noticed what happened when he saw something dangling before his eyes – keys.  _His_ keys.

„And now be good until I get back. Maybe I'll bring something better than bread that almost walks off on its own“, the raven said with his dark, evil tone.

 

Not even when the door snapped was Ventus able to move but a single muscle.

What the hell had gotten into him? Had his panic, his confusion really been enormous enough to let all of this happen?

Something went terribly wrong. And at this point, he didn't even know by which overwhelming means.

_Wasn't destiny awfully suffocating sometimes?_


	2. Calm Before the Storm

Forty-five minutes and a heavy shock - “stop sneaking up on me!” - later, Ven had to admit that his fridge looked a little more stuffed than before. He wasn't sure if he should ask what this was all about.

And this guy...oh yeah.

“What's your name anyways?”, he asked and soon regretted it. The raven gazed at him as if he had said something terribly wrong. Luckily, his expression eased fast.

“Call me whatever you want.” Oh well.

“You can't even be serious in the slightest.”

“I am. What's the first name that comes to your mind when looking at me?”

“Jack the Ripper.”

To be honest, that wasn't exactly true. Ventus couldn't think of a name instead of titles. What came to his mind were words like  _psychopath_ or  _stalker_ .

“Fine, then I'll be Jack the Ripper from now on.”

What a jerk. But Ven wasn't finished yet. For some strange reason, this parasite – another nice nickname – had settled down in his apartment, but he would make sure to end that soon.

“And what do you want from me? How did you even know where I live? I'm still having problems finding the way from time to time.”

“Did I know? Maybe I just guessed pretty well.” He didn't even put effort into making it sound honest, which drove Ven even madder. He remembered kids in his classes tormenting him for stupid things and he had been glad to leave all that behind.

“Listen here, I don't find this funny at all. I'll get you out of here, even if it's the last thing I'll ever do.” With that, he went over to the phone, picked it up and started calling the police.

For a second he wondered that the raven didn't even try to stop him, but before he could feel any joy about it, he lost ground, was seized by the neck and brutally pressed against the wall.

“I wouldn't try that if I were you. No need to get both of us in trouble, right?”

“Both of us?! There is no _us_! There's me who just wants to be left in peace and you who doesn't only stalk me but also breaks into my apartment and refuses to leave. Let go of me!”

The raven didn't do Ven's bidding. He had known that something was terribly wrong about that guy, but this was way too much.

His arms were pinned against his back so he couldn't use them to fight back. His legs were blocked as well so he didn't really see a way out of this. Great.

“What the hell do you want from me, goddamn it?!”

“Apart from stopping to scream at me, you could just shut up and do what I tell you to. Is that too much to ask?”

“Wait until you fall asleep.”

He was so mad, mad and frightened, and the evil laugh he was gifted didn't really lighten up his mood.

“Adorable, aren't you? You don't seem to understand, but I could kill you right here and now without anyone noticing.”

He sighed as if he had said too much and turned away his head. Luckily for him, Ventus had no clue what those words meant.

“What are you talking about? Of course my family would notice if they never heard of me again, stupid.”

“You really don't understand. No one would ever know I did it. Let alone why I did it. And now shut up.”

He let go and Ven had to reach for the wall behind himself to not fall over. What had he gotten himself into? Or rather: Had he gotten himself into it? After all, he hadn't made the decision to tell this guy where he lived. He had just known, and Ventus had no idea why or how.

As if nothing had happened, that guy just walked over to the sofa and let himself fall onto it again. Ven decided to accept his fate for the moment. It was like something stopped him from complaining any further.

“You could at least tell me your real name then.”

“No, I can't. But how about this: You just call me Vanitas. Handpicked by myself, just like a real name, don't you think?”

“Parents pick those.”

He knew his answer wasn't needed since the statement itself had never been for real. But to be honest, he didn't really care either. Instead, he rubbed his shoulder which still hurt.

“You don't happen to have something modern like...I don't know, a TV? We could start off with matches and work our way up.”

“Funny.”

He sure as hell wasn't stupid enough to give an answer to that question. Of course he had a TV, it was still in the storeroom though.

Still trying to shake of the shock of the situation, he noticed that this guy had already changed back to normal as if nothing had ever happened. Ven wondered. Had he really become one of those victims in Hollywood-movies? His life really seemed to love him.

Maybe he should try some of the food he gained from this jerk. And where did he even get the money? Why didn't he live in his own apartment and instead bothered Ven? So many questions but no answers so far.

Ven decided that it didn't matter for now and headed for the kitchen. If it hadn't been for the psychopath sitting on his sofa right now, he would almost have been happy for not having to ask his parents for money. But how did they say? Life ain't easy.

Maybe if he went to the university tomorrow, things would settle themselves. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he had hit his head somewhere...

But there was still something he wanted to settle no matter what.

“Say, you didn't plan on staying for long, right?”

“Oh, maybe just a few months.”

“Just...what? Okay, listen, I'll try this rationally. Even if I wanted that – and I can assure you that I don't-”

“You're breaking my heart.”

“...it wouldn't even make sense. This apartment is fitted to one person only, and if you think I'll give up half of the bathroom and maybe even my bed...well, think again!”

This had to be convincing, right?!

“I don't care. I'll find a way to make myself comfortable.”

Great. Just plain awesome. He could try running away. Leave everything behind and go find the police. But for a reason he couldn't explain to himself, it felt like a pretty bad idea.

Without wasting even one more word on this weirdo, he left the living room for the kitchen. He was pretty hungry and even though cooking really wasn't something he wasn't good at, he didn't have much of a choice.

He should probably pore over some books with cooking advice in them, but right now, he had loads of other problems. And one of those decided to stand millimeters away from him the second he turned around which made him scream like a little girl.

“What the hell are you doing?!”, he screeched and jinked. Did he need someone to scare him like that? No! But Vanitas really didn't seem to care. Instead, he cast a disgusted gaze in the pot and raised an eyebrow.

“Do you always cook this...fancy?”

“Not forcing you to eat any.”

“Wise decision.”

Annoyed, Ventus watched Vanitas rummaging in the cupboards, probably looking for something decent to eat. He decided not to complain because it wasn't really his food after all and he was kind of glad to have it.

“So...what exactly are you doing there?”

“What does it look like? I'm trying to find something I can actually eat. Are you sure you're able to live on your own?”

Way better than with you, Ven thought but didn't dare to say it. He wasn't up to another...fight by now.

“Do whatever you like”, he said sarcastically and headed for his bedroom to get ready to sleep. Could this please just be a terrible nightmare?

Back in the kitchen he found himself, unbelievable but true, laughing at how Vanitas sat in front of the oven like a little child on Christmas waiting for their present.

“I'm pretty sure you can't force it to be done by staring at it. Where are my...”

Where were the noodles he had left on the hotplate? Seriously, he just wanted something to eat.

“I told you I wasn't going to eat that. Just wait.”

Oh well, he probably hooked himself an expert chef here. Wasn't that great?

“You know, there's something I don't understand.”

“Like what?”

“You kind of burgle me, threaten me, refuse to leave but you don't plan on either robbing or killing me, right?”

“Well, I could probably find a reason to do so if you wanted me to.”

“...Not interested. Still, why?”

“Have you really already forgotten that?”

Forgotten what? He frowned in confusion. He did make it sound serious although you could never be sure.

“I don't like to repeat myself. You'll just have to remember by yourself, I guess.”

And that was the only explanation he was going to get, wasn't it? How very enlightening. Ventus really had no idea what to remember since the only time he had spoken to this creep before had been right in front of the university.

He gave up and dropped onto one of the kitchen chairs. Saying that he was hungry would be an understatement. Maybe that was part of the reason he couldn't think clearly.

But even half an hour later and with a filled tummy – he sure as hell wasn't going to admit how good the stuff had tasted – he had no idea what this was all about. And he also started to doubt that he should actually know.

Tomorrow, he would think about getting rid of Vanitas for good. He wasn't as annoying as Ven had feared, but that didn't make him less of a creepy stalker.

But for now, the blonde would play nice and let this guy sleep on the sofa. Just this once.

He entered the living room, armed with bedding and found Vanitas browsing through a book Ven needed for the university, a kind of incredulous expression on his face.

“Wouldn't you need something like a minimum-IQ for this? Who did you steal that from?”, he was told with a sardonic grin.

Ven didn't find that funny at all but said nothing. Hopefully, he'd find that on its original place the next day.

He dropped the stuff in his hands and backed off to his own room, not sure why he wasn't so damn afraid that he jumped out of the window.

No, he didn't even feel like he was in danger, as weird as it sounded.

And suddenly, he got the strange feeling that he had forgotten something very important.


	3. Under Observation

Sadly, this weird situation didn't turn out to be a bad nightmare but bitter reality. Well, in the end, Ventus hadn't been stupid enough to actually hope for the former.

Vanitas' encouraging words, telling Ven not to let anyone kill him, hadn't changed his mood for the better.

Not that day, not the next and not even a week later had he been able to get rid of this jerk, whatever he tried.

Now, eight days after the first appearance of the raven, Ven sat in one of the lounges of the university, at the same table as two other young men who were easily able so entertain the whole room with their loud vocal organs.

But actually, Ventus didn't mind. Sometimes they even said something funny which made him laugh, although he wasn't really able to focus on it. He was still trying to find a way to divest himself of Vanitas without getting in trouble – if that was even possible.

Moreover, he felt like someone watched him the whole day, but whenever he took a look around, he saw nothing special or extraordinary.

He was knocked out of the skies by one of the brunette guys saying his name.

“I'm sorry. What did you say?”

“I asked if you weren't interested in this!”

The boy handed him a piece of paper, a flyer to be more concrete, which advertised some kind of student party.

“I'm not really into that stuff. Sorry”, he replied with an apologizing smile that seemed to surprised his opposite, but he didn't care. He hadn't been pigeon-holed by anyone yet for being a little antisocial, but right know, he couldn't care less. Thinking about it, he wasn't even sure if they knew what he studied, because hadn't met them in one of his classes, but instead in one of the inner yards.

“Well, gotta go, see you around”, he said and got up to attend his next class.

“Sure, see ya!”

He was thrown two wide grins. Funny, these guys really seemed happy all day.

Shortly before he arrived at the course room, he noticed that he missed some of the books, cursed and turned around to go find his locker first.

Opening it, he was greeted by chaos. Seriously, how had he devastated this thing in less then ten days, especially since the only things he had in it were books and papers.

What concerned him even more was one sheet on top of everything else that he hadn't put inside. That was the bad thing about those letter slots the lockers had. Any idiot was able to put something in as long as it was small enough.

He elevated the sheet, although a little worried, and unfolded it, taking a look around. Who could have put it inside? Sadly, the message on it not only worsened his mood but also corroborated his suspicion of being stalked.

 

_If I were you, I'd watch my every step._

 

Wasn't this just plain awesome? Had he ever really hoped that his life would turn back to normal again? Besides not being too happy about being threatened, he didn't even have an idea on who would write him something like this.

Maybe it was a stupid joke someone decided to pull on him out of all people? Who on earth could even know that this was exactly his locker? Who would even  _care_ about that? Maybe the person had been mistaken. Well, truth be told, he didn't really believe that himself, but he also had no other explanation.

For a second, he considered blaming Vanitas, but first, he didn't even seem to study, and second, why should he? If he really wanted to freak Ventus out, there would be lots of ways less troublesome for the raven.

So, what was he supposed to do? Taking a look around, he noticed that he was alone. No one there who could hurt him. But also no one who could help him.

Maybe it was best to just go to his course and forget about all this. Or probably report about it first, then ignore it. Because if it was addressed to someone else, this someone would be in danger as well.

 

But even trying to shrug it all of as a mistake didn't ease his morning at all. He went to all classes and reported about what happened, but not without a bad feeling in his stomach which kept him busy even when he decided to finally go home.

Thinking about home, he realized that even more trouble waited for him there. Fortunately enough, his home-problem didn't yet threaten his every move.

And he was to be surprised yet again, luckily in a less creepy way than before.

“What are you...how the hell did this TV get here?!”

It  _definitely_ wasn't his own which he hadn't had the time for. No, this was a fairly new and probably extremely expensive model. What the hell...?!

“Well, since you don't seem to have something like this, I thought I might as well take remedial action and buy one myself. Don't you dare complaining, it's one of the newest.”

“How in hell are you able to pay for something like this? And how did you get it here?”

“You cannot be serious about the second question. That has been possible by telephone for about 20 years by now and at least half of that time, you can also buy stuff on the internet.

“And how did you pay for it?!”

“You'd love to know, hm?”

How he would have loved to smash that stupid, arrogant grin out of the raven's face. But he accepted that he wouldn't even have a chance to touch him before being beat up and didn't even try.

Luckily, he knew that he sure as hell didn't have enough money for something like this, so Vanitas couldn't have stolen any of that.

He didn't really care about what was on TV right know, but he saw a letter – fortunately unopened – addressed to him in his mom's handwriting.

Happy about good news, he opened it and found himself smiling about the unimportant things she wrote. Yeah, they were all happy and healthy which made him a little happier, too. It was something, wasn't it?

He took a look out of the window and sighed. All of this really exhausted him. It wasn't like he was sleepy, but extremely tired, so he just dropped onto the sofa and closed his eyes.

“Are you alright?” _Wow_ , he thought, _you almost asked that concerned instead of mischievous_ , but didn't say it loud. Yeah, great. Then he noticed something.

“Say, you didn't leave the apartment in all this time, did you?” Actually, he knew the answer, and he didn't like it at all.

“Why wouldn't I have?”

“Because”, he emphasized the word sarcastically, “there is but one key to this apartment and I sure as hell know that one to be in my pocket.”

“Oh, seems like you missed this one.”

With that, Vanitas pulled two keys identical to Ven's out of his own pocket, probably for both front door and apartment. This couldn't even be...

“You're kidding, aren't you? Not even you can be this _cheeky_!”

“What's the matter? Don't you think it's just fair we're both able to walk in and out to our likings?”

“Oh, hell no! I don't think that's fair at all! This is my apartment, _mine!_ I don't even know you!”

“Maybe not. But I know you. Trust me, that's sufficient for now.”

Well, Ventus didn't think so. Maybe it had been Vanitas after all who pulled of that stupid letter-prank. No, no and no again! He wasn't going to fall for this idiocy!

He really wasn't one to believe that things just settled themselves if you let them, but he wasn't in the mood to find a way to end this. And to be honest, the possibility of Vanitas being the one to blame for his locker-incident made it all a little less scary.


	4. Small Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's title is fucking literal I noticed. I think a lot died in the translation here, because I do not recall the original being this short. Oh man. To make up for that, some future chapters will be pretty long.

The oncoming weekend had a calming effect on Ventus. He was even able to unpack a few cartons on his free friday.

For some reason, he had also agreed to Vanitas' idea of getting a new, foldout sofa – at the raven's cost, of course – because  _that old thing_ had probably gotten a little uncomfortable.

Ventus would never even consider admitting it openly, but since he was actually kind of sure that Vanitas was not the one who put that stupid letter in his locker, he was a little happy to have the psychopath around him instead of being all alone.

Named psycho was also a damn good cook and Ven obviously made use of that part because he himself even managed to burn noodles.

But now, Saturday evening, they shared the new sofa and watched some kind of half-entertaining reality TV show because, seriously, that was the only thing they showed at this time of the day.

Much to Ven's dismay, he didn't really have the right to forbid Vanitas putting his naked feet on the furniture. Couldn't he at least wear socks? Okay, it wasn't exactly cold, but still!

While Ventus still tried to take any kind of pleasure in what the TV showed, Vanitas seemed almost interested in on of the blonde's books.

“Why are you interested in this?”

Good question. He wasn't exactly sure how to answer to that. He just liked it.

“Dunno. I had fun doing this stuff in school, so I guessed it would make sense.”

School...he did miss it somehow. Doing only what he liked was more fun, yes, but still...

The few good friends he had had all studied somewhere else so he was kind of alone in this city and that made him feel a little lonely from time to time.

As if his answer had been far from satisfying, he was still being gaped at.

“Fun?”

“Yeah, what's the big deal?”

With a shake of his head, Vanitas turned his attention back to the book. This was the first time that Ven noticed the long, white scar that spanned from under Vanitas' ear to his collarbone.

“Where's that from?”, he asked and pointed at it when he got an asking gaze. A sardonic hiss was the answer.

“Long story.”

Oh great. Ven sighed and gave up for now. He just didn't get any answers from this guy, no matter what he asked him. Not even his really name, let alone anything personal.

He leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to rest a little. It had been a long day, but since it was still early, he was only going to relax for a few minutes.

 

Well, that had been the idea. He noticed it hadn't worked out when the smell of nice food wakened him.

“You really spend more time asleep then awake, don't you?”

“Very funny!”

The clock told him it was already 8:30 pm, but that didn't stop him from eating lots of food. Everyone was good for something, and in Vanitas' case, it was definitely cooking!

“Say, are there any normal people at the university?”

Ventus didn't really understand the question, but nodded slowly.

“Who else should be there? Wizards?”

“Criminals.”

He stumbled and swallowed, not sure if the raven was serious. Could he be? If yes, that would be extremely creepy, considering the letter and Ven's current paranoia.

“Why would you even think that? Do you think they train suicide bombers?”

“Everything's possible, Ventus.”

Had he ever thought living with this sick guy was safe in any way? How stupid of him!

“I neither know what you mean nor found a good reason why you bother me by now, but I do know one thing for damn sure: You really aren't anything close to normal.”

A sick, mean, evil laugh was the answer.

“Did you expect anything else?”

Not really, no. But that still didn't explain how perfectly this conversation fit the letter in his locker. Of course, it was only logical that all of this was connected in some way, but that didn't make it less creepy.

He started to believe that Vanitas surely had a relation to the sheet, but wasn't the one behind it. That thought confused Ven and he shook it off again. Did it matter, as long as he had no idea what was going on? Not really.

Sighing, he looked at his now-empty plate, trying to plan what to do with the rest of the weekend. There was still enough work to do in the apartment, like unpacking cartons and setting up his bookshelf, and he should probably use all that to have at least a little time in which he wouldn't have to think about this crazy situation.

In the end, he'd find one way or another to get out of this. He was used to trouble, so it wouldn't be the first time.

What he didn't know by now, was how unbelievably hard it would be to shuffle out of this situation.


	5. Chaos

Ventus had almost forgotten about the weird letter in his locker about a week after the incident, but the next shock came soon.

Because all out of no where, the rumor of suspicious people sneaking around the university was spread by a lot of different students Ventus talked to.

He found it a bit weird, to be entirely honest, especially since he expected that these kind of people should normally be found relatively fast. It made him wonder if it wasn't a set-up scenario, safety controls or something like that.

Then again he remembered the bad feeling he had walking down the halls, and the weird note he had had in his locker. It all lined up too well to be a coincidence, didn't it?

Maybe reporting the incident had been a good idea after all, then. Of course he didn't know if it would change or help a thing, but at least he had tried.

What worried Ventus the most though was the fact that no one seemed to be honestly concerned about any of this, like one of these Sports students he had met one day.

“Nah, I wouldn't think too much into it! They've got cameras and all, right? It'll be a-okay!”

While it did sound like a highly naive try to take the seriousness out of the situation, he decided to appreciate it. Why not? Panicking probably wouldn't help him much either.

Still, he would make sure not to get into unnecessary trouble and go home as early as possible, just to be safe.

Maybe he  _was_ thinking too much into it. Hardly anyone seemed to really care about it, probably because this city was known for hardly any criminal activity. Even small things like shoplifting was rare.

 

Even so, hours later, he couldn't quite shake the fear off, which caused him to bump into someone so heavily that both of them fell.

He was embarrassed and helped the other person up, but the man apologized, saying it was his fault, and was gone before Ventus could say a word. This was terrible, and on top of it all, it hadn't even taken half a day for him to forget that he had wanted to go home early.

But since he made it back to his apartment safely, he decided it was alright. However, leaving Vanitas alone for too long couldn't be the best thing to do either.

The second Ventus opened the door, he knew he was right about that.

There was absolute  _chaos_ in his apartment. The kind of chaos caused by a couple fighting and throwing things at each other. Or by someone breaking into the place, which was obviously what made more sense.

He was cautious on his way to the living room, but not enough so, as the second he stepped into it, something carried him off his feet and into the air headfirst. It was like in a very bad movie.

“Vanitas, you royal _jerk!_ Let me down!”

Ventus wasn't sure why, but there was no doubt his unwanted roommate was responsible for this, and it wasn't funny at all.

“Interesting. You feel like you've got everything under control, but you're missing the obvious details right before you.”

The voice came from the kitchen, shortly followed by that horrible guy, that monster, that  _abomination_ stepping into the living room with a malicious grin on his face.

“Shut your face and tell me why my apartment looks like this!”

“Exactly how am I supposed to, what was it? _Shut my face_ and explain something to you at the same time, idiot? Anyways: I tested you. Oh, and in case you want to know: You failed miserably.”

That much was for sure. His failure had started when he hadn't called the cops on this guy immediately when he had had a chance. Everyday made him regret it a little more.

“Was it necessary to mess up my _new_ place in order to do that? Look at this clutter you caused!”

“You sound sulky. I heard tidying up can help a lot with that.”

“Oh yeah, you're so funny. Let me _down!”_

But Vanitas didn't even seem to consider doing that, instead casually leaning onto the door frame.

“The university, it was mentioned in today's news. I wonder if you got an idea why.”

“Hm, I don't know. Maybe we won the national chemistry contest? I don't give a damn.”

“Funny.”

He laughed and made a few steps towards Ventus, whose mood was decreasing rapidly, partly to the fact that he was immobile, but mostly because the blood rushing into his head gave him a serious headache.

“Apparently there's criminals running around that place somewhere. And what does that tell us, Ventus?”

“Probably that I hate you.”

“Wrong answer.”

Vanitas stopped, right in front of Ventus, and due to the fact that they were both pretty short, they were almost at eye level. It was annoying.

“Yeah, cool, right. You enjoyed yourself and now it's time to let it go and live on, will you? It stopped being funny minutes ago.”

“That's not the right answer either.”

Ventus passionately rolled his eyes and gave up. There was just no getting through this insanity. However when his head was grabbed, he panicked and did the first thing that came to mind – spit in the perpetrator's face.

It wasn't the greatest idea ever, as obviously Ventus couldn't do much about his sweater being pulled down to clean the saliva off, but he did try to fight back nonetheless.

“Well then, I'll explain it to you.”

Vanitas took a few steps back to the kitchen before turning around with the same bored, slightly mad expression he usually had. Now it didn't seem like he was having fun anymore at all.

“The fact that criminals run around at the university that you, coincidentally, attend, tells us that there might be the smallest kind of chance that they could be on your tracks, out of all people. You never know, do you? Well, and as I prefer not being woken at night by someone trying to kill me, it is probably inevitable to explain a few basic things to you.”

Ventus shook his head in defense, closing his eyes.

“Listen. Even if I wanted to hear all this, I don't think I could comprehend anything right now. The blood almost makes my head explode, so if you'd be so kind, I'd be oh so grateful.”

Vanitas seemed to be considering if it was worth it, then decided to in fact let him down with some weird construction somewhere in the kitchen. Just how had he managed to do this in such a relatively short time? And why?

He managed to let himself drop on the small bit of sofa that was still to be found between books and a chair, and leaned back, sighing audibly.

“Seeing that you have come down to earth, I suppose we can continue. Considering a TV was a slight mystery to you when we met – you do have a mobile phone, right?”

It was a dumb question, and Ventus rolled his eyes at it, but eventually nodded.

“Good. Where?”

Not that it was any of Vanitas's business, but thinking about it, Ventus hadn't checked his phone for quite a long time today, so he might as well…

Weird. It was not in his pocket, where he was sure it had been when he left the library. Maybe it was in his bag? You never knew, so he went to the hallway and checked that. Nothing.

“I...don't know,” he admitted upon re-entering the living room.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Oh what could it mean, asshole?! I lost it, whatever, it's gone, doesn't matter.”

Of course it did matter. He hardly had the money for food, let alone a new phone, and he was definitely not going to ask his parents for support with  _that_ just because he was too stupid to take care of his belongings.

“Don't be an idiot. One does not just _lose_ a phone like that. Did anything happen on the way back?”

Why was this guy so overly protective, while at the same time being such a major dick? It was confusing and made Ventus mad beyond belief.

“Not really, I guess. Bumped into someone and fell on my sorry ass. Might have lost it there, I guess.”

And with that, he wanted to let the topic rest as it should. However for Vanitas, this seemed to be just the beginning of it all.

“Oh, you bump into someone and your phone is gone. Quite coincidentally on the same day your university is declared _possibly dangerous._ There isn't, by chance, anything weird about that to you?”

He was mad. If it were anyone else, Ventus might have even used the term  _nervous_ , but this was Vanitas, a weird, crazy, downright creepy guy who had his feelings under control way too well.

“Just what am I supposed to do about it? It's gone and that's that!”

“No, it's not, Ventus. Consider this: Someone who wants to harm you, deliberately runs into you, catches you off guard and steals your phone. Do you have an idea of what that someone can do to you? The people you are close to? Don't make it sound like everything's okay.”

“Could you stop being so _paranoid?_ This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't shown up here in the first place!”

“Don't blame me for acting like an idiot.”

“It's not my fault these things started happening once you made yourself my very unwanted roommate!”

It was when Ventus finished the sentence and saw the angry, furious look on Vanitas's face, that he realized he had made a mistake.

“ _These things?”_

“You're not my mom and I'm not obliged to give you an account of my whole life!”

Ventus didn't even see the hand reaching for his collar before he was harshly pushed against the wall behind himself. Struggling to free himself didn't help at all, he wasn't nearly as strong as Vanitas, and also somewhat scared of what was going to happen now.

“I feel like you're missing my point”

“I don't want to get your point! Let me go!”

“I don't care about what you _want_. Are you fine with putting others in danger? Because if not, you better tell me about those other things that happened before.”

“If you let the hell go of me, I would!”

He hesitated, but then probably realized that this wouldn't do much, and let go of Ventus.

Just why,  _why_ did this have to happen to him out of all people? Maybe if he were fast enough, he could lock himself in his bedroom, but then he wouldn't even have a damn phone to contact anyone with. It was  _cursed_ .

He took the note he had found in his locker from his nightstand's drawer and handed it over.

“Happy?”

But with every passing second, staring down onto the piece of paper, Vanitas seemed to be less and less  _happy_ .

“You're telling me this now?”

“Do you ever tell _me_ anything? I'm not your prisoner!”

Instead of answering to that, Vanitas grabbed his jacket off the chair that was resting on the sofa and went to leave, but then turning back when he was almost out of the room.

“You're staying here. If you dare leave this apartment, I will not hesitate to break every single bone in your body. Lock the door.”

With that, he was gone. No room for arguments, no room for reasoning. It was not like Ventus wanted to go out anyway, but still? What was happening here, where was Vanitas going and most of all, why was Ventus so sure he would see him again sooner than he wanted to?

He sighed, desperately shaking his head. Would his life ever return to normality?


	6. One-sided Cooperation

After hours of trying to find a way to occupy himself – from going to bed to going back to the sofa and tidying the stuff on it – Ventus only realized he had actually managed to fall asleep right there when footsteps startled him.

He needed a moment, but when he heard the small creaking sound his bedroom door made, he was heavily alarmed.

“The hell are you doing in there?!” he demanded to know, jumping up and almost falling down, still drowsy from the bad slumber.

He stopped in the door frame and watched Vanitas burrowing into the medicine cupboard.

“Hey, I'm talking to you!”

Instead of an answer, he got his phone flying back in his direction and only just caught it before it could fall to the floor. It was in one piece and nothing seemed off about it. But just how had this guy managed to get it back?

Apparently he had found all he needed, and for a second there it seemed like he would just squeeze past Ventus, but he actually stopped for a second when the blonde spoke again.

“You're bleeding.”

He was mad at himself for sounding so concerned, when obviously he wasn't, but the wound on the raven's head looked awful and downright dangerous. But instead of being worried, he laughed gleefully.

“Oh really? I never knew.”

And shoved Ventus out of the way before making his way to the bathroom.

“You-you think this is funny, don't you? _I'm still talking to you,_ god _damn it_!”

But Vanitas had already locked himself in, and Ventus didn't believe he was going to get out of there anytime soon. Just what was this guy  _doing_ ? Why was he bleeding, why did it always have to be Ventus who got into this kind of trouble?

He sighed and gave his phone a closer look. All as he remembered it, but he would surely keep his guard up about it. All of this was too crazy not to be suspicious.

But what was he supposed to do now? Pretend nothing had happened? Other than still being in pain from being torn up to the ceiling, he was both hungry and tired, and felt neither like sleeping nor like eating.

What he did do eventually was stare at the wall until he heard noise coming from the bathroom door.

“So, how did you get this back, anyway?”

He tried to sound all casual about it, as if they were exchanging reports about how their days went, but in reality, he was unbelievably curious.

“Take a guess. I took it back from the guy who stole it. Simple enough.”

“Wow, aren't you funny. I was talking about, you know, how you _found_ him.”

Instead of answering, Vanitas shot him an evil laugh and a raised eyebrow before sitting down on the sofa right next to Ventus. He was back in a great mood, it seemed.

“Yeah, you're totally right. I shouldn't ask, for my sake. So, you sure he didn't like, steal all my numbers and is already on his way to slaughter my whole family?”

He kept his disinterested tone up, when actually he really wondered about that part a bit. Having someones data in any kind of way could lead to quite some danger, and he didn't know how much that guy had already done with his phone.

“I am very sure that he will not slaughter anyone in your family. Ever, in fact.”

“Oh? Didn't think you could be so persuasive.”

That was a lie. Just one look at Vanitas was enough to see that he had ways of making people do what he wanted. And if Ventus would have to guess – which he didn't want to do – he would assume that the thief was probably not even alive anymore.

He sat up, trying to shake off the very bad feeling the thought alone gave him, and instead focused on Vanitas, who himself was inspecting a cut – which was actually more a flesh wound – on his belly, looking more bored than anything else.

“You're not even concerned about that, are you?”

He looked up and shot Ventus the probably shortest look available, before looking back at the wound.

“Not really.”

With that, he got up, probably to fix himself up a bit more. Not that Ventus were a doctor or anything, but he almost found himself suggesting to go see one – almost, as he immediately realized that first of all, he had enough problems on his own, and second, Vanitas was probably too proud for that anyway.

But Ventus still wanted at least some answers. Something, anything to give him back the ability to sleep peacefully at night. Because currently, he didn't feel like he could.

So he waited, more or less patiently, until the bathroom door opened again.

“Where have you been all this time anyway?”

“That's hardly any of your business.”

He rolled his eyes. This was going great.

“I kinda feel like it's my business if I'm the one being mugged and all. You want me to do what you say, but I hardly see a reason to, really.”

He waited for an answer, but nothing. Of course nothing. Why had he even expected to be successful with this?

Giving up, he decided to go to bed. Where was the use in this, trying to get answers, tired as hell and with the worst headache ever? There was no getting through to this guy.

He was already at the door frame when he did actually hear words, coming from the kitchen.

“You win. Get over here.”

That...sounded way too good to be the truth, and he was highly skeptical about it, but at the same time way too curious not to obey.

Vanitas was leaning against the kitchen counter, fiddling on something Ventus couldn't really see, looking anything but pleased about everything in the world.

“Uh. So?”

“Sit down.”

“But-”

“Sit. Down.”

He did, as it was obviously the only way to get  _some_ sort of cooperation from this guy, even though the bad feeling he got out of all of this didn't necessarily get less in the process.

Nothing really happened, and he didn't dare ask for anything again, as he was pretty sure Vanitas hadn't forgotten about him sitting here – he was just working on whatever it was he had in his hands, and took his time with it – annoyingly long, at that.

It was when Ventus already looked away that he got handed something. A rope, in fact.

“What...exactly is this about?”

“Just untie it. To keep you occupied.”

“Why?”

No answer.  _Of course_ no answer, so he decided to just go for it and try; to no avail, which he had also already expected in all honesty.

It took him about ten minutes and slightly grazed fingertips to finally give up.

“Heavens, I can't do it. Are you happy now?”

With a rather disinterested look, Vanitas – who had just been staring at him all this time apparently – took the rope back out of his hands and rolled his eyes. Well, whatever, maybe getting answers really wasn't worth all this stupidity.

“Screw it, I'm going to bed.”

“Oh, but we're not even finished here yet.”

“Well, that's too bad for you. Because I am.”

While getting up, he already knew that hadn't necessarily been the smartest thing to say. It was even more obvious when he was grabbed by the shoulder and shoved back into the seat rather roughly.

“You and me. We are both done here when I say it. You'd best get used to it.”

He didn't know if he should respond to that, and if yes, with what, and decided to instead just frown and hope this wasn't going to be hist last night on earth. Was this finally what he had feared all this time?

There was no time for him to regret when his hand was grabbed and, faster than he could even comprehend it, tied to the table leg right next to him. He didn't even have time to fight back before the same thing happened to his other wrist.

“Wow, what the hell! Stop it, let me go!”

“Didn't you say you want a reason to cooperate?”

“What on _earth_ does this have to do with...woah, hey, you want to be careful with that, right?!”

Even if he could move away from the table, he wouldn't have been fast enough to flee before his one and only cleaver was rammed into – no,  _through_ – the table right in front of him.

“Here's the thing. I have absolutely no reason nor obligation to do or not do _anything_ you want from me. Can't say the same for you, unfortunately.”

He didn't want to listen to any of this nonsense. If this, only this, was who Vanitas really was, then things did in fact finally make sense – a little late for Ventus's liking, as this would probably really be where he would die.

“You're _sick!_ Absolutely insane! I knew you had some sort of serious problem up there the first time we met. But this beats everything I could've imagined! Get _away from me!”_

Without even noticing it, he had started screaming, and very loudly so. That was actually a splendid idea, as maybe it would cause his neighbors to call the police. Sure, that would probably be too late for him, but maybe they would at least catch this  _freak_ in time.

His idea was cut off pretty fast though, by stuffing his mouth with a towel. It felt awful and trying to spit it out only resulted in it urging him to gag, so he stopped.

“You were asking for a reason to do what I say, and I am giving you one – quite nicely so, if I may add. I think it's time you start understanding what kind of situation you are in.”

Ventus tried not to listen, focused on the table – even looking at the cleaver was better than looking at Vanitas, who was probably just staring down on him like the psycho he was.

What a great way to end his life, right? He should've called the police from the get-go, should've run and never come back. Sure, maybe Vanitas would have taken the time to try and find him, because knowing his face and the fact that the things he did couldn't even barely be legal, Ventus might be a threat.

But wasn't being hunted down and killed at least a little less pitiful than actually allowing the person in your life?

He tried to blink his tears away, and finally looked up when the knife was being taken out of the table, Vanitas now absently turning it in his hands. Was he thinking about the best way to cut Ventus in pieces? Because he sure looked like he did. But there was more to it. A kind of disappointed he had already shown when Ventus had entered the kitchen, and that was actually the most unsettling part.

Instead of hurting him, Vanitas sat on the table, one leg on each side of the chair Ventus was sitting on, eyes on him again now, with the shimmering amber giving away nothing about all of this.

He put the cleaver on the table next to his hip and instead picked a pocketknife from his pants. Other than looking down at it, he raised it so that it was exactly between their faces, looking perfectly sharp and ready to kill.

Instinctively, Ventus wanted to say,  _scream_ something, momentarily having forgotten about the cloth in his mouth, and now finally gagging.

At least Vanitas had the decency to pull it out and allow Ventus to cough until he could finally breathe again. How liberating.

“Now stop screaming, or I will put it back in.”

He  _had_ considered screaming again, but being able to breathe was too good to dare doing that now. Well, that and the fact that the knife was being brought awfully close to his face, which meant every sound he made could end in getting stabbed. Actually, that could happen either way.

He felt the cold metal against his warm lips just a second before the pain, and even though he should fight back, try to get out of this, all he did was stare. At the blood dripping into his lap, back up to Vanitas who looked rather pained than pleasured, before stopping when he had cut down half-way to Ventus's chin.

He was starting to feel sick, the heat on his mouth, the fact that he was bleeding rather heavily from how deep the cut actually was, everything made him want to double over and give in to the end, but what he did was find himself say something so weird that he would probably deny it if he ever woke up again.

“I thought...we were...friends.”

There was no laugh, no mocking. Nothing before he felt a numbing pain somewhere on his head, or maybe his neck, maybe his back, he wouldn't be able to tell, and felt everything go black.


	7. Game Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say.  
> Thanks for the kudos so far, I appreciate them. <3

_Am I blind?_

That was the very first thought going through Ventus's mind after opening his eyes; at least he had sensed them opening up, but he could see literally nothing. Not even a single, smallest source of light.

Deciding to turn on the side was a bad idea, since his body still hadn't recovered from him sleeping on the sofa in the most uncomfortable position. Other than that, his body felt quite numb, and licking his dry lips only resulted in them burning a little. Right – the cut.

He suspected to be in his bed – it felt just as soft – but had no idea how he got here. Considering that he was alive though, he supposed he was safe for now. This was the perfect opportunity to run, wasn't it?

But trying to push himself up on the bed, he only now realized that he couldn't move his arms since they were tied to his chest.

Tied. To his  _chest._

As if things hadn't been terrible enough already, right?

He held back any tears, not really sure why, because he felt like he had every right to cry, but at the same time he didn't want to look pathetic.

It felt like a terrible horror movie; he was practically blind, unable to move, sore and either alone or stuck with someone who had almost killed him. Just how much worse could it get?

He tried to crawl over to the edge of the bed to at least get over to the light switch. Then, he could look for something to cut the rope open with, right? It was a good idea, especially considering that the fear was making it hard for him to think.

“Don't even think about it.”

He flinched and rolled over to the other side of the bed. How quietly did this guy breathe?! He hadn't had a clue that Vanitas was here  _at all_ .

Even though it was the last thing he wanted to do, Ventus soon found himself panicking; his voice cracked when he spoke, and he stuttered.

“Please, just...just. I don't want to die yet! Whatever I did to you, don't kill me!”

He sounded pathetic, and he hated himself for it. Why would he even try to go for pity, even though he knew that there was none for him?

More than anything, he expected Vanitas to laugh at him for being so weak, but instead, he felt an incredibly cold hand touching his forehead.

“If I wanted to kill you, Ventus, I would have done that long ago.”

Was that supposed to make him feel  _better?_ Because it sure as hell didn't. Yeah, it meant that  he was  _safe_ for now – whatever that could be in this situation – but who really knew if Vanitas would change his mind about it? He was  _sick._

“Mind explaining to me why I'm tied up and hurt then? This is insanity!”

N othing about any of this made any sense. There were times when Ventus actually felt like Vanitas didn't despise him and actually accept him being alive...and then this happened. Out of nowhere, his tolerable attitude turned into cold ferocity.

“Don't worry, you'll understand soon enough. You don't have much of a choice, either way.”

Ventus heard the sound of footsteps shortly afterwards, and they were getting  _quieter._

“Hey, wait a second! How am I supposed to get up and out of these...ropes?!”

“How about you find a way, smartass?”

The door opened – finally the smallest source of light, assuring Ventus that he had not yet turned blind – only for Vanitas to step out and close it again.

Ventus's mood immediately switched from scared to very angry. This arrogance would probably drive him insane very soon.

“Find a way, he says. What a splendid idea, when I can't even _get up!”_

Speaking hurt his dry throat, so he decided to shut up; there was no one who could listen to him anyway. He licked his lips again instinctively, regretting it because this time, it burned a lot more than before. 

He fell flat on the bed again, looking up at the ceiling he couldn't even make out in the dark. This was getting better with every second, and a weird feeling in his stomach indicated the even worse:  _hunger._

Oh, how he hated it. Maybe Vanitas would let him out if he screamed really loudly – or well, maybe he'd just get beat up for it, but wouldn't it be worth a try either way? Any way to end this eternal darkness.

However the choice was made in his stead with the door opening a bit and the light being switched on. He closed his eyes in defense and rolled over a bit to shield himself, but also to be able to glare at Vanitas a bit better. What he brought, though, made Ventus reconsider and raise an eyebrow.

“What, now you're being nice to me again? You make no sense at all.”

“I can leave if you want.”

He didn't answer, as the statement was clearly rhetoric, and just waited for the unreasonably tempting looking glass of water to be handed over...before he realized he wouldn't be able to take it either way, at least not effectively.

He waited for Vanitas to sit back down on the chair that was right next to the bed, however the guy actually had the audacity to make himself comfortable on the bed, cross-legged and an eyebrow raised up to the ceiling.

With lots of effort, Ventus managed to get in the same position, still feeling weird because of his arms.

“I appreciate the water. Oh, and the bread especially, but you do see that I can't use my arms? Because, you know, you _tied me up?!”_

“I remember that part, yes. Be good and don't bite my finger off.”

Was this guy serious about a single thing he did?

“I'm not letting you feed me. What's wrong with you, is that some sort of fetish? No, wait!”

Unsurprisingly annoyed by the aggressiveness, Vanitas had made a move to get up and leave again, so Ventus decided to play along relatively fast.

“Your way of thinking is naive,” was what was probably going to be the beginning of a lecture. Great, he loved those. All these instances when Vanitas treated him like an idiot and pretended he knew oh-so-much more about the world. Ventus rolled his eyes, but still accepted the glass of water being brought to his lips. The cold glass felt good against his sore skin, and the liquid running down his throat was heavenly, but he wouldn't say anything.

“I'm not keeping you here because I think it looks funny, Ven.”

“Oh? I'd surprised if there were another reason,” he bit back immediately, entirely missing the part of being called by his nickname – something he usually only shared with friends and his family.

“Well, think for a second: What would happen to you, were I to leave you here, no food, no water, nothing?”

“I'd scream really loudly until someone found me?”

“Naturally. Might be quite difficult with a taped mouth though.”

Ventus sighed. Of course he knew where this was going, and his thought of Vanitas getting a kick out of having him say it out loud popped up in his head. 

“If it makes you happy: I'd starve a pitiful death.”

“Not bad. And now, what do we learn from that?”

He couldn't help it and rolled his eyes again, only refraining from letting his head drop back into the pillow because he was still being fed. There were no words for how much he hated being in this situation. He was being tormented, yet at the same time cared for, so while he despised Vanitas with all his heart, he still couldn't necessarily say that the guy was all bad. It was more like there had to be more to what he was doing, and he was being incredibly secretive about it.

“That I'll have to do what you want in order to live.”

“I am impressed. You learn.”

With that, Vanitas put the plate down and actually untied Ventus's hands. What an unbelievably liberating feeling that was.

“Thanks, I guess.”

He was handed the plate and the glass of water, a little sceptical about it, but at the same time way too voracious to really care if he was being played with.

“You're going to rest a bit more now, most likely shower, and then there's a lot ahead to do.”

In a twisted kind of way, Ventus enjoyed the fact that he was not being asked or demanded. Instead, his cooperation was simply being assumed as if there was absolutely no reason to doubt it. He smirked at the thought.

He watched Vanitas ditch him again, this time probably for good until Ventus decided to get up and out of his room again. The smirk vanished immediately. Even though he should be shaking with fear, find a way to get out of this, he instead felt a weird form of bliss because he was simply still  _alive._

Would it have been easier if Vanitas  _had_ killed him? He started to think that it would. Because now, the most prominent thought on his mind was:

_ I'm curious. _

Curious about  _ why _ he was still alive. The weird cryptic bits of information Vanitas gave him, without any of them actually making sense. The fact that he was apparently needed for something, because if he weren't, he surely would be dead by now.

He felt terrible about himself. A few hours ago – or however much time had passed – he would have given anything to get away from here. Now, though, he really wanted to understand what was going on, even if it were only to find a way to get out of it for  _ good. _

 

After unsuccessfully trying to fall asleep for a good two hours, Ventus decided to give up and get up. A shower sounded really good right now, so he would actually make use of that idea.

He knew that he'd get the evil stare for not catching up on some sleep – and that it'd be very obvious, considering how weak and tired he felt. But it couldn't be changed, so he didn't really bother with making something up.

Getting to the  wardrobe and getting some fresh clothes was already enough of a task, however trying to get from there to the bathroom quick was even worse, even though it was the room right next to this.

He managed not to fall, however found himself cling onto the door frame in order not to fall over.

“You're a mess. You should've made use of that time to sleep.”

“Aren't you hilarious. I tried, I couldn't. It might sound alien to you, but I'm still scared.”

With that, he managed to slam the door shut behind himself and get the hot shower he felt he deserved so much.

Because only when he actually  _ felt _ the hot water ease his muscles, he realized how tensed up he had been all this time. Sadly, his slightly sore fingers and his lips weren't all too happy with the feeling, but he didn't care much. It hurt anyway.

All of this was tempting. To stay here forever, until the piercing hot water felt like ice pickles on his skin. Until he dropped unconscious from the watery fog clouding his mind. Anything to not have to go back out and face what was ahead.

Again, though, he wanted answers. And he wouldn't get them by wasting time here, so he decided to stop when it felt best. 

Now, clean, eased and in fresh clothes, he figured he would probably be able to sleep like a baby, but of course that chance was gone for now. He stepped out of the room quite sheepishly, and found himself slightly flabbergasted at seeing that the living room was back to the state before having been turned into chaos.

That itself was great, however Ventus still didn't want to go in. Sure, Vanitas hadn't been as bad in the last few hours, but that sure as hell didn't mean that he had redeemed himself in Ventus's eyes.

“Are you shy? It's not like you have a choice, so get over here.”

He flinched, confused about being found out even though Vanitas had his back turned to him. That guy either had supernatural hearing abilities, or a pair of extra eyes under his mob of hair. Both possibilities sounded equally dumb, so Ventus decided to give neither of them much thought and instead made his way over to the sofa.

He decided to squeeze himself into the armrest as well as he could, however Vanitas of course decided to close the gap, needle and threat in his hands. Not very soothing to Ventus. Not at all.

“Just what are you doing with that?”

“How about fixing your chin? What else, anyway.”

He still wasn't sure if he could trust that. What if it ended up being another trick? There'd been enough action today for a whole life-time, really. Then again, he found it was easier not to question Vanitas, especially when he offered something nice, so Ventus nodded and tried to relax.

“Do yourself a favor and don't move. I'm not going to be extra nice on you.”

He didn't even have the time to comment on that, because the needle was already forced in his skin. It burned, it was a horrible feeling, and the only plus side was that it didn't start bleeding again right away.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I told you not to move, idiot. If the wound stays like this, who knows if you'll get an infection? You seem like someone who'd get the worst one right away.”

He would've loved to say something to that, before deciding it was probably better to not push his luck twice by talking again. It was less painful as long as he didn't move, either way.  And after a few minutes, it was actually already over.

“Not as bad. Figured you might scream, actually.”

He narrowed his eyebrows. On one hand, he wished he could force Vanitas through the same thing – on the other, he highly doubted that the guy would even flinch at this; let alone play along.

“So, how about proper food now, and not some...I don't even know.”

Ventus thought back, and remembered the bread he'd been given before. It really hadn't been bad – a bit dry and boring, but not worse than his cooking skills in any way. That, of course, didn't mean he'd complain about something proper. Still, the reasoning behind Vanitas being nice was quite disheartening.

“Oh, so you can properly hurt me next time without me dropping unconscious?”

For a split second, Vanitas looked confused, right before smirking and raising an eyebrow.

“Don't you think it's amusing just how fast your ways of thinking change?”

What?

Ventus found himself staring at the turned-off TV. Now that he'd been asked, it was the first time he thought about it, and it was true. It was surprisingly pessimistic to assume that right away, instead of just hoping that he got lucky for once. Amusing, though? Not really. He'd rather call it unsettling.

He was being left alone again, and had no desire to follow Vanitas to wherever – the kitchen probably, he figured. Ventus's least favorite place anyway, since, really, his cooking was a disaster and the fact that he hadn't burnt anything down was a miracle in itself.

“Am I...changing?”

And if yes, why? Just what  _ really _ stopped him from getting up and putting an end to all this? Shouldn't he be scared? Running? Why was the curiosity taking him over so much that he failed to think rationally?

In either case, he would've loved to see the sunlight again. How long had it been now? A day, two? He couldn't put a finger on it. When would he be able to go back to his normal life?  _ Would _ he be able to go back to his normal life? This problem that had seemed rather small at first was now growing into something way bigger, because of course there was not only Vanitas, but people stalking him and stealing his stuff.

“Let me guess,” he heard Vanitas say before he had fully settled down on the sofa again. “You're exploding with questions you wouldn't dare to hope getting an answer to?”

That hit the mark so disgustingly well that Ventus found himself looking away, which only got Vanitas to laugh at him evilly.

“Don't laugh at me. You'd have just as many questions if you were me. And I know I can't do anything to get answers from you, so yeah, I'm frustrated and don't expect you to explain much to me. Great situation.”

“Oh.”

Regardless of the sound of it, Vanitas looked as bored as always, but still pretended to be thinking about those words heavily.

“It's not like you have much of a choice anyway, but how about we turn this into...a game? Yeah, that's good. You survive, and I let you in on what's going on. That makes you cooperate faster and you get the answers you want so badly.”

Considering that he really didn't feel like he had much of a choice – other than running and hoping that he'd never be found – that offer was rather tempting, even though of course he would still be cautious.

“I don't trust you even a bit, but whatever. Sure. I'm gonna cut my way through this.”

“I'm sure of that, Ven.”

This time, he felt the softest tingle upon hearing his nickname. Curiosity won. Where it would take him was a gamble, but he would have to face whatever there was to come.

 


	8. First Insights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ehhh, Ven's a bit dumb, but he's got a hinch he wants to follow. I'm sorry! ;~;

Even though Ventus feared dropping dead after every single piece of food Vanitas offered him, he found himself munching happily on the sofa again, watching some sort of new casting show. He didn't like those at all, but found it quite fascinating that people were actually dumb enough to take part in something like that. Was it really worth the little money they got for it? Because he couldn't imagine it was.

“Why are you watching this garbage?”

“Oh, you know, it takes my mind of the fact that I'm living with a psychopathic bastard!” he answered loudly, upset because he hadn't heard Vanitas sneak up on him.

Instead of responding, he just grinned sassily and sat down on the sofa as well, fishing a phone out of his pocket that Ventus had never seen before.

There was no use. He could ask what the new phones were about, but he wouldn't get an answer anyway, so why bother? He was curious and worried – mostly about himself, but still.

He decided to go back to the show, only to see the TV go black after a few seconds. Of course he wasn't allowed any kind of joy in his life. How naive of him.

“I know this was trash, okay? But I really wanted to know if they had something funny in store.”

Because, really, was it so hard to understand that he would give anything for  _some_ sort of fun these days? It wasn't like he got much of that lately.

“Just watch the rerun later. Now come on.”

Oh, great,  _this_ kind of attitude. Ventus had divided Vanitas's acting in three rather rough tiers.

First tier meant he was actually nice, spending time with Ventus and effectively really doing nothing, other than watch TV or read a book. At the beginning, this had been what he had been like most of the time, and it was really welcomed.

Second tier was still alright, but not as chill anymore. He'd demand things of Ventus, entirely void of any good emotion or room of choice. It wasn't the nicest thing ever, but not too bad, considering it usually didn't stay for long.

Ventus really didn't feel like thinking about third tier. It was absolutely incomprehensible for him how someone could go from a relaxed sassy attitude to downright  _bloodlust._ If he hadn't seen it first hand, he wouldn't believe it, but it was terribly true. Whenever Vanitas acted like that, Ventus was sure he would obliterate anyone and anything in his way without a qualm.

That was probably the main thing that made him curious. He hardly  _ever_ did what Vanitas wanted, let alone regularly. Yet, he was alive, and quite well, considering the circumstances. So that just left the question: Why?

He made his way over to his bedroom, still having not a single clue for what. This was weird again. The room still felt suffocating, mainly because the shutters were down and the light was rather yellow-ish. Oh, well, and because Vanitas was leaning against the wardrobe, looking rather bored and a bit annoyed.

“Had you forgotten the way?”

Ventus grimaced, not even taking the time to answer, and let himself drop onto the bed. All things considered, he still preferred this room over the others. It was scary right now, yes, but also comfortable. If only he could feel as safe in it again as he had before.

“Say, what's the way you'd want to die, if you had a choice?”

He immediately stopped in his tracks, having looked around the room before. Just what had he done wrong this time? The day had been rather nice until now, so he really didn't see where this was coming from.

Vanitas's mimic didn't give away anything new either.

“Quick and easy? What's this about?”

While he could keep his voice calm, he still felt a chill running down his spine. Maybe he just had to get used to going from dumb casting shows to death threats. Not really comforting, but he also didn't feel like he was close to any kind of attack, so he told himself to calm down.

“Isn't that interesting?” Vanitas just asked with a creepy smirk, obviously a rhetoric question, so Ventus just answered with a questioning look.

“About two days ago, you would've said something about not wanting to die, that you hate me and want me to leave you alone. Now, you sound rather...indifferent.”

He swallowed. It was hard not to nod at that, because it felt so true. Of course he didn't really  _want_ to die, but at the same time, he was scared of the other possibilities.

“Maybe I...no...I'm really scared of the thought of how death might unfold for me, but I'm starting to feel like it might be the easiest thing to happen.”

That didn't even make sense in his own head, so he wasn't sure if the explanation sounded weird.

“Why?”

He didn't understand that part much either. Of course fighting was the only thing he could do if he wanted to live, and he did want that. Maybe, he figured, it was the fact that even if he was living on, it didn't quite feel like  _life._

“I guess...I feel like being with you only prolongs the pain and my inevitable death. And I don't think I'm made for that, not only because of me. There's others, you know? My friends, my family. I'm scared for their sake, too.”

None of them said anything for minutes. Was that the answer he was supposed to give, or the opposite? Ventus wrapped himself in the blanket, maybe for some sense of comfort, and slid back a bit when he finally saw Vanitas approaching him.

“So, you think…,” he started, now less monotonous than before, in such a dark tone that it actually scared Ventus more than the fact that he was decreasing their distance from each other. There was something in Vanitas's voice that he couldn't quite put a finger on. Entirely different from any anger, sassiness or narcissism that he usually radiated.

“You think it's better to just die than suffer because of someone else and putting others in danger in the process?”

Ventus thought about the question for a long while. Was there a right answer to it, or was anything he could say equally bad? Why did he even care so much about it? In the end, he found himself nodding, because that was the closest to the truth that he could imagine.

“...I see.”

And right in that second, it hit him like a truck, making it hard for him to breathe or think. Right there it was, the feeling Vanitas had been flooded with.

_Bitterness._

Without an idea why, Ventus was disgusted by himself. There was no real reason to, he thought, because why was it so bad to give away his life for the people he loved, hoping that they would not have to go through the same thing? He watched Vanitas sit down on the bed again, cross-legged like before, staring at his own palms, obviously thinking hard. Then, he reached under the bed, searching for something apparently – and whatever it was, he must have been the one putting it there, because Ventus was disgusted by just the thought of there being spiders.

What Vanitas did bring up was tape, although he seemed to lack something to cut it with. Was this the moment to panic, finally? Because Ventus did.

“What are you up to?”

“Relax.”

He did, because there was no malice in the word, but that didn't mean he necessarily felt safe.

“Screw it.”

Vanitas reached for the empty glass on the night stand, smashing it onto the very same and effectively breaking it in pieces. If he weren't so shocked, Ventus would actually be mad. It was one of his favorite glasses, thin, light-weighted, small. And now, gone. It was especially infuriating because all Vanitas seemed to need was a small piece of it to cut the tape with.

Was this the end? After all, Ventus had just said that he would want to die a quick and easy death, even though he hadn't meant it that literally. The tape itched on his lips, but he didn't complain.  _This is easier_ , he reminded himself.  _I just told myself that, didn't I?_

“Your arms.”

He didn't even question the words, instead held them both out without hesitation.

_No_ , he remembered.  _I wanted answers, didn't I? The curiosity kept me from running, giving up. Why is it gone?_

His wrists were taped together as well, although he figured he would still be able to get out of those, unlike he would have with the rope. It was also a lot less painful than that.

He remembered begging not to be killed not long ago. That he was too young, that he wanted to live so much longer. And somewhere inside, he still felt that wish, but at the same time, just thinking about fighting back hurt.

The terrible sensation of pain in his arm let him look up. Vanitas had pinched him, not too heavily, but it was enough to get him out of his trance. He tried to complain, then remembered he couldn't and gave up. No sound came from his lips, and he figured that had been exactly what Vanitas had wanted to test. So that he couldn't alert anyone with screaming, huh?

Ventus felt the glass against his cheek. Just for a moment, then – nothing. It was so incredibly thin that it had barely cut his skin open, and it really didn't hurt at all. The blood mixing with the tears he hadn't noticed before, dripping into his lap silently, was obvious enough though.

Pathetic, he thought. Hadn't he pretended to be all strong and decided? Done with life, prepared to give it so that others could vicariously live in peace? He wanted the mental power to stay true to that, but if he were really honest with himself, it wasn't him. Yes, he  _would_ give his way for his family, no doubt. But all this nonsensical talk to himself, about how he was okay with it, how it would be easier...it was just dumb.

Instead of the shard, he felt a hand on his cheek, briefly, but didn't look back up. It was warm, comforting, and reminded him of all the good times he had had. He figured that it would be easier to accept the end with good thoughts in his head, instead of the fear that tried to eat him up whole, so he tried his best to smile under the tape. He'd be surprised if it didn't look dumb.

The hand wandered down his face and too his neck, way more caressingly than he would ever expect Vanitas to be, especially to him. It was literally painful how solacing it felt, and he decided to close his eyes and accept it as a last nice act before giving in.

Then, without a word, the feeling vanished. This time, it lacked the sensation of warm blood, or anything new dripping into his shirt. There was simply...nothing. After thinking for a second, he did look up again, confused about what he saw. Instead of hurting him, Vanitas had cut his  _own_ arm, however not really looking very hurt about it. Just what was this about now? Blood soaked the sheets, and it was a lot more than could be healthy to lose at once.

Ventus wanted to ask what all of this was about, but what really made him move were the words he heard next.

“I can't yet.”

The words clearly weren't directed at anyone and they didn't make much sense to Ventus, but he found himself cry more now. He didn't feel like he was sad, rather shocked and maybe a little worried. Just a little.

He decided that this was enough insanity for a while and tried to tear on the tape around his wrists. It wasn't easy, but his thumbs were free enough to eventually let him grab onto the edge of it and tear it off. Freeing his lips was a bad idea, but he did it either way and just accepted the fact that it hurt again.

“Just what are you doing?” he asked, unable to hide the fact that he might be caring a little bit. Vanitas seemed to notice it too, because he snapped out of the trance he had been in and looked up from his hand, obviously confused about something.

Right here, for the very first time, Ventus felt,  _knew,_ that there was so much more to all of this than he had been able to see, and that whatever it was, it had to be connected to himself in ways reaching far beyond  _getting unlucky._


	9. Black and Gray

The aftermath of the whole situation was kind of weird. Vanitas had almost literally thrown Ventus off the bed and torn the sheets off, as if just the thought of all this blood made him sick. That would be highly weird for him, but it would explain the disgust that had been quite prominent on his face, and the fact that he had only taken the time to bandage his own wrist briefly before leaving to wherever.

If anything, it had given Ventus the chance to catch up on some sleep, in a now neatly done bed. He shouldn't be as tired as he was, considering he really didn't do much at all lately, yet it was more exhausting than anything he could imagine.

There were so many things he hadn't done in what felt like weeks –  and maybe it had been . He was stuck in his own apartment, still rather scared of going out after all that had happened, and honestly not even sure if his legs would carry him far. Now he was also hurt in the face and really didn't want to run into anyone giving him questioning looks, even though of course a torn lip was nothing suspicious overall. But he would manage to make himself look suspicious, and that was bad enough.

He was still alone when he got back up and to the living room...who knew how many hours later, actually. He was scared of opening the blinds, scared of checking the time. Something in his mind wanted to make him believe that if he pretended time to stand still, it would.

Flicking the light on, he decided to at least go check his mail. How many days had passed since he had last even attempted to leave the house?

To his surprise though, there was nothing in the mail except for a greyish-black feather. Had this guy actually…? Angry about everything, he shoved the feather in his pants' pocket. Was this supposed to be a joke?

He didn't have the time to properly move back before the door was opened right in his face, which scared him and made him jump back before it could hit his face.

“You look like shit, Ven.”

Wow,  _charming._

He rolled his eyes and had already turned on his heels, then decided it was best to get this over with right away, instead of bringing it up again later, and turned back around.

“Did you...take my mail?”

It was a rhetoric question, because the chance of him getting no mail at all was extremely low, especially over the course of multiple days.

But the answer was not a remorseful look, as he had expected, but instead a raised eyebrow, as if the question were simply dumb.

“You can't just roam through my stuff. Just who the hell do you think you are?”

Before even finishing the question, he walked backwards because the glare Vanitas shot him was scary, and in combination with him slowly approaching,  _deadly._

“Who I _think I am_?”

There was no real anger in the words, yet Vanitas didn't exactly sound  _pleased_ either. Well, Ventus actually got that, at least a bit. He'd been stalked on two occasions so far, and threatened. So yeah, sure, next thing to find could be a letter bomb, but was it so hard to  _communicate_ this with him?

“I just…,” he started, a little scared that he might get hurt yet again, leaning into the wall he was being pushed against – without even a single touch.

“You could have at least told me. It's like you're keeping me a prisoner.”

“I figured you'd notice, with this bunch of paper thrown on the dresser in the living room.”

Oh.

No, he actually hadn't given that thing a single look in days – why would he? He'd basically been trapped in his own bed, tied up, cut, tied up again, mentally tortured and then left to deal with himself. The stupid dresser had really been his least problem.

Without another word, Vanitas turned to enter said living room, and elegantly crashed onto the sofa, seemingly exhausted. His wrist was still bandaged, but sloppily so, and something made Ventus believe that the blood on it belonged to someone else.

“So, are you going to tell me now?”

“About what?”

“All this crazy stuff. Cutting your wrist, running away, getting into a fight.”

He made his way over to the sofa as well, for the first time actually happy that it was a new one, because it offered enough space for him to sit on without getting too close.

“No.”

“Wait, what? You said-”

“I _said,_ ” he was being cut off quite harshly. “That I'll let you in on some things as long as you live. Considering you obviously pleaded me to end your life, I can kind of call bullshit on that though, huh?”

Wow. So that was how they were playing this game now? Dirty, unfair and stupid. Dumb of him to expect anything else.

“I never pleaded anything. I just figured you'd probably hurt me more if I fought back. Sorry I chose to believe you when you said that, rough quote, if you wanted to kill me, you'd done so long ago.”

That was a lie. He hadn't thought about those words for a single second. Honestly, he hadn't even doubted that Vanitas would kill him, at all. But now, they made sense, and they  _had_ proven to be true.

“Hm, fine. I wanted to know how you'd react.”

“What?”

“You had accepted me hurting you to a certain extent. I was curious how you would react to me hurting myself.”

That was...disgusting. Ventus narrowed his eyebrows, quite visibly hurt and offended by these words already, only for Vanitas to top it off with:

“You cried harder.”

“You are absolutely horrible. I'm taking back any good thing I ever said about you.”

Which was probably none either way, but it already counted for the future as well. How could someone possibly toy with someone else's feelings like that?

However, despite all things, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Firm, but briefly, and it was gone before he turned his head. Nothing made sense. It was as if Vanitas was torn between destroying Ventus and comforting him back into a decent state. But why?

“You really do look terrible, you know.”

He was an inch from shouting back something ill, but realized the words had been a lot softer than anything else so far. It still made no sense, but if he could keep this up so they wouldn't fight, that would be the best.

“I feel it, too.”

“So, what are you up to now?”

What?

Was he supposed to go back to pretending they were friends, and actually continue on watching that weird TV show he had missed in order to live through another spectacle of  _let's get hurt for no reason?_

“Are you for real?”

Vanitas  properly  sat back up to that, and if his face didn't automatically trigger the words  _murder_ and  _narcissism_ in Ventus, he would actually believe that he saw a bit of sheepishness in them.

Was Vanitas...was he actually  _trying_ to be nice here? So far, it had never occurred to Ventus that it might be something he was actively struggling with, instead of simply deciding not to  _be_ nice.

“I...I mean. If I had my way, I'd probably...”

A lot of things came to mind at once. Run away, find his parents and hope he'd never have to go back here, go back to studying, get a normal roommate…

But all of these things were obviously not part of the possibilities, and nothing he really wanted to say out loud, so he decided to go with simpler, more realistic choices.

“Eh, I guess I'd just munch some sweets, watch a good movie and cry my eyes out on a friend's shoulder. Basic stuff.”

At first, Vanitas only gave him a confused, almost pained look, before deciding to get up and head for the kitchen.

“You sure as hell aren't going to get the last thing from me, but I guess the rest isn't too bad. I dare you to choose a shitty movie, though.”

That was really something. He acted like nothing bad was going on between them, as if they were the best friends in the world. For a second, Ventus considered the thought. He sure would be safe from some thugs trying to steal his phone, but then again he was a prisoner in his own home, so it definitely came with a lot of downsides, too.

He felt like an idiot for even just considering it, still. Even if things were okay right now, he surely hadn't forgotten about both the physical and mental torture he had been put through. It reminded him of people trying to be friends with their bullies in order to get bullied less, only that here, not his dignity was under attack, but his entire life.

With a rustling sound, a bag of sweets landed on the sofa right next to him. It was apple rings, his one big weakness. Why did Vanitas know these things about him, and why the hell would he  _care_ ?

“Leaving out the fact that you, for whatever reason, know how much I love these,” Ventus said while already smacking on three apple rings at once, “why did you bother bringing some? I didn't go grocery shopping in like a week, and I'd know if I'd bought these.”

Not that he minded, really, but it was still rather confusing, this constant shift from terror to caring, which left him unable to hate Vanitas to the core, yet made it even more impossible to actually like him.

“Good memory, unlike you. If you don't want it, I can leave them out the next time.”

“That's not what I meant and you know it.”

They sounded like an old couple now, and that was way too cliché to keep up, so Ventus decided to slide off the sofa and move over to the TV stand and look for a good movie. His friends had tended to make fun of the fact that he still hadn't joined in on the online-hype of watching everything on the internet, but he really cherished the old-fashioned way of watching movies.

There was a lot of good stuff. He'd be in for an animated movie, but could already vividly picture Vanitas's raised eyebrow for that, so he decided not to try.

“Made up your mind yet?”

He didn't turn around, but heard Vanitas drop onto the sofa again, apparently ready to pick something in Ventus's stead if he didn't start being quick about it.

“Wow, you're impatient. All of this is amazing, but since I doubt you're interested in Disney movies-”

“How'd you know.”

“-I figured we might as well just watch _The Big Lebowski._ Didn't see that one in forever.”

“Wouldn't have guessed you'd know anything of quality.”

That seemed to be an agreement then, so he put that movie on and dragged himself back to the sofa, which was surprisingly strenuous.

None of them said a single word through the whole thing, and actually, that was the best part about it. Sure, to anyone else they would look like strangers, and watching alone would probably have  _looked_ the same, but there was something about the atmosphere, something calming, that Ventus wouldn't wanna miss.

“So, you ever heard of that thing called _laughing_?” he asked when it was over, which – of course – got him a  laugh as a reply.

“You know, movies can be amusing, but that's usually not the kind of humor I'd laugh at.”

“Sure, sure.”

As long as they didn't fight, anything was alright, even peace and quiet. Ventus reached for the bag of sweets again, only to find it was empty, and he still hungry – well, big surprise, considering it was all sugar.

“I'm going to starve,” he declared dramatically, but without much emotion to it, and headed for the kitchen to grab something proper. Oh heavens, how his mother would judge him for basically _everything_ going on here right now. Thinking about it, he desperately wanted to talk to her, and he really should. Sure, he couldn't tell her about what was going on – because, really, she'd call the police before even letting him finish – but at least talking at all again would help, too.

He ended up eating bread. It was funny how that was always what he ended up with when no one else made him food – or helped him make it, at least – but he was so used to it that he didn't care.

Now, he figured while going back to the living room, would be a great time to just get out for a while. Vanitas was in an insanely good mood for some reason, as if he had just gotten rid of any negative emotion in him while he had been away, and he was also distracted with his phone.

But somehow, while Ventus was sitting there, staring at the black TV screen, chewing more intensely than necessary, he felt like things cleared up in his head just a bit.

Minutes ago, he had sat right here in the same spot, watching a movie with a man who had not only the ability to ruin or end his life any second, no. He had _enjoyed_ the time spent together. And while that thought should seem strange enough on its own, he thought he finally understood _why._

“You…,” he began, swallowed the last bite and stared down at his feet, thinking hard about the words on his mind.

“You really don't keep me here for fun, do you?”

“Honestly? It took this long for those words to reach you?”

He shook his head, not sure what that meant, at least not yet. It could still be a lie. If Vanitas didn't  _want_ to hurt him, then why did he? There was no logical reason, at least none that Ventus could see. But maybe the problem was somewhere else, somewhere... _earlier_ !

“Say. What's the first thing that comes to your mind when you think of the word _feather_?”

“What's this about?”

Angrily, he jumped up and took a few steps around the sofa to calm himself down. Why, for heaven's sake, could he never get a straight answer, when he was always asked to give them?

“Just answer me!” he demanded, fully aware that in case they did fight, he wouldn't stand the slightest chance. He was too mad to care, though.

“Ink and parchment.”

That just had to be a lie, Ventus knew it, and after a second of considering the argument he would get himself into for hiding it in the first place, he picked the feather from his pocket.

“Good. How about this one, then?”

He had barely finished the question before he was dragged back onto the sofa and the feather torn out of his hand, only for Vanitas to stare at it motionlessly for a good ten seconds.

“Carrion.”

“Could you, for the love of God, make sense just _this once?!”_

“I do. It's the feather of a carrion crow, Ventus.”

_Bless me with patience_ , he begged no one in particular, before taking a deep breath. This was going nowhere.

“Great. Amazing. I don't care. Why do you even know that?”

“You learn to tell them apart. Do you have any more of those?”

He shook his head, already awaiting the doubtful stare he got in return. But it was true, he hadn't found more, so he shook his head again.

“It was in the mailbox just before you got in.”

Obviously seeing something that he couldn't, Vanitas nodded. He didn't even look mad, which made Ventus nervous, considering the argument they'd had about the letter.

“You...won't tell me what this is about, will you?”

“I will, but not now.”

Sounded promising enough, but Ventus wouldn't believe it until it actually  _happened_ . He watched Vanitas pace about, looking rather uncomfortable, and as if he were going to leave again.

“Are you...going away?”

He realized that it sounded weird, almost scared, and Vanitas seemed to notice it, too, because he looked up from his phone before he nodded.

“Yeah. I doubt I'll be back in the next hours. Make sure to stay here and let no one in – I mean it, don't even go check who it could be.”

Was it really that bad already? When had all of this switched from  _If I were you, I'd watch my every step_ to  _Leave your apartment and you might get hurt_ ?

“Aren't you funny?! What am I supposed to do if I notice someone trying to get in? God, I hate myself for saying this, but...I'm scared without you!”

He didn't like admitting it at all, but it was the truth. If Vanitas really wasn't the true bad guy in all of this, then that meant there was someone out there who was even more dangerous.

“I guess you're right. Take this.”

He was handed a phone – the one Vanitas had just been walking around with.

“There's only one number in the contact list. If you notice the slightest thing that's off – even if it might turn out to be a stray cat scratching on the door – dial it. It'll be alright.”

He seemed awfully sure about that, and while Ventus wasn't sure what to believe, he found himself nodding. That was more than any other idea he could've come up with right now.

He watched Vanitas head for the door, and for whatever reason, couldn't hold his thoughts back.

“Hey, uh...”

“What?”

He'd actually taken the time to turn back around. It was slow progress, but nonetheless showed that something, like a thick ice barrier around him, seemingly started to melt a bit more with everything that happened. And it gave Ventus the courage to say what he was thinking.

“Just...try not to get in trouble.”

A tiny smile, more like a smirk, but it was enough.

“You too.”


	10. Support

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is by far the longest chapter yet, and the first one I kinda had to...re-write, because I wasn't quite happy with the original anymore. I really hope I changed it for the better... :D

It had in fact been more than just a few hours before Ventus heard the apartment door open again. Hours in which he'd been lying on the sofa, thinking about everything. His own feelings, Vanitas's acting and the situation they were in.

That itself was the main problem though. What situation  _were_ they exactly in? Without knowing that, he found himself unable to find any reasons as to  _why_ they were. Sure, Vanitas had suggested that he would answer some questions soon, but who knew if that was actually true? And who knew how much he would answer?

Expecting to at least get a  _hello_ , Ventus waited, only to be disappointed. Footsteps, the bathroom door opening, but not closing again. Just what…?

He got up, and saw a very disturbing Vanitas on full display. There was blood all over his face, which he seemed to be trying to wash off in order to look at the wound on his forehead. His shirt was more than just a bit torn on the back and deeply soaked with blood as well.

“So much for not getting in trouble,” Ventus mumbled, which finally got Vanitas to at least look at him. For some reason, he just smirked at that smugly. It was a pretty disgusting thought, but somehow getting into fights seemed to get him into an amazing mood.

“Yeah, can't be helped.”

He sounded bored, if anything, and only left to get needle and thread. Was he honestly going to try…?

“Are you for real? This looks serious, you should consult a doctor.”

“Thanks, princess, but I'm fine.”

Ventus raised his eyebrows at the nickname, and then found himself just silently watching. Most of the small wounds indeed didn't look like much of a trouble – even though he didn't understand how anyone could sew their own flesh without even flinching.

The flesh wound on the back was a different case though, and looked even worse after the shirt covering it had been thrown on the floor. Vanitas visibly tried, fully concentrated on getting a good angle in the mirror, but it was useless. No way would he be able to properly sew that up himself.

“You look really fine right there, I must say.”

That finally made him shoot a death glare in Ventus's direction, who then instinctively looked around innocently. Maybe he should just stay out of this and not give a damn, but all of that looked really dangerous and…

“I could help you, I guess.”

He had no idea why he offered it, and if anything, he expected to be laughed down. Instead though, Vanitas just gave him an impatient stare, and actually seemed to  _wait_ for him to do just that. Surprising, but not unwelcome.

“I reckon you've never done this before.”

“No. Can't be worse than what you're trying to do here though.”

He took the time to thoroughly wash his hands – because  _he_ didn't want to be the one responsible for any infections – and even more time to inspect the wound. At least, he thought, it didn't bleed heavily anymore.

The other seams were a good enough indicator of what he would have to do, but it was still incomparable. He really shouldn't do this without any medication.

“This...this looks really bad. How about some painkillers?”

“How about you shut up and just get this over with?”

Other than aggression, he felt like he heard some embarrassment in the words, as if relying on his help was the single most terrible thing that could ever happen.

They both sat down on the bathtub rather uncomfortably, but it was a lot more sterile than the living room could ever be, and this whole act was already unprofessional enough. No reason to risk even more.

Upon further inspection, the wound actually didn't look  _that_ bad anymore. It did give off a rather gory vibe, and Ventus was sure it hurt like absolute hell, but it looked like it would be relatively easy to sew up with a few loops.

Vanitas still didn't flinch, but he did give Ventus the worst look ever, which was so scary that he had to stop in his tracks. What if he severely hurt him and it caused him to tick out and attack? Pain was a risky thing to deal with.

“Look, this would be easier if you could trust me enough to not stare at me like that. It's scary.”

An angry snort, then:

“I wouldn't even turn my back on you if I didn't trust you. Letting you get so close to my wounded body, let alone with a needle...don't be stupid.”

Confused, Ventus raised an eyebrow. Was that supposed to mean…?

“You...trust me?”

“Do I need to repeat myself? Just _hurry.”_

He did. That was the best reply to anything he was going to get today. It gave him hope that him feeling like they were getting just a little fond of each other was not an entirely one-sided thing. There was still giant room for improvement, obviously, but it was a solid start, right?

In the end, it all looked...well, decent, probably. Definitely nothing a proper doctor would let you go home with, but not life threatening either. Ventus was definitely content with himself.

“So, uh...I suppose you want to leave me alone now?” he asked sheepishly, not sure if that was the right moment to run. 

“I'd like to say that, yes. But I doubt I'll make it over to the living room.”

He held back a grin with all his might. Maybe he was just happy that at least some parts of Vanitas seemed to be very human, even if it was only his body giving in to exhaustion. It was something. They made it halfway, just over the door frame, before Ventus re-decided and aimed for his bedroom instead. It wasn't commented, so he figured it was okay.

After dropping Vanitas onto the bed as nicely as possible, Ventus himself dropped to the floor, feeling to weak to move any further. Spending so much time inside hadn't done his energy any good, so he'd take a moment to catch his breath.

“Are you going to stay on the floor?”

“Can't make it back to the living room yet.”

“Then just get up here.”

That idea hadn't even occurred to him yet, simply because he figured it'd still be better to keep a certain distance between the two of them. All things considered, though, it really was better than spending his time on the floor, so he decided to just roll with it.

Getting up on the bed was difficult, which only made settling down on it even better. Comfortable, and for some reason, it finally felt safe again. Ventus cast a look to the side, unable to believe what he was thinking, but still feeling like he needed to spill it out.

“I don't get why, but somehow...being with you feels like home.”

He didn't get an answer, and somehow, that was the best he could wish for.

 

Falling asleep without any trouble had been so rare lately that Ventus found himself questioning it when he woke up. Had he dreamed sharing the bed? He was weirdly close to the right edge of it, so he supposed it had actually happened. But then how was Vanitas even up again? There was no way all those wounds hadn't exhausted him a little more. He  _was_ human, right?

Deciding to just go find out, Ventus pushed himself up, but ended up regretting it. His vision went black, he felt sick and almost threw up on the spot. What the hell?! He let himself drop back into the pillow and closed his eyes. There was no reason for him to feel like that, was there? Sure, he was going through a roller-coaster of feelings, not knowing which he should believe in and what to do. Maybe, he figured, being able to just cry his eyes out on someone's shoulder would really help, but he didn't have anyone around to do that with.

Yeah, well, except for someone. And that was a stupid idea. Sure, there was...well, at least some positivity between the two of them, but it was nowhere close enough to  _friendship_ for such a request being realistic.

He took another deep breath, opened his eyed and pushed himself up again, this time more carefully. It still wasn't nice, and getting up on his feet was a rather sloppy task, but he made it over to the door, considered flicking the light on, but then decided to just leave the room immediately.

He wasn't sure what he had expected, but  _nothing_ definitely wasn't it. The living room was dark, but there seemed to be light in the kitchen, although hardly visible through the small gap between door and frame.

Not sure if he was welcomed, he entered rather sheepishly, holding onto the door both because he felt weak and because he was ready to run and slam it shut again if needed.

But no, Vanitas didn't even look up from the table. It seemed like he hadn't even noticed he wasn't alone, but Ventus heavily doubted that. As if anyone could sneak up on that guy. So he decided to just speak up.

“You shouldn't be up again.”

“I'm used to worse. You, however.”

He turned his head and raised an eyebrow at Ventus's appearance, obviously not quite approving of what he was seeing.

“You're the one who needs more rest.”

There was absolutely no room for him to argue against that, as it was quite obviously true, but sleep wasn't going to give him the kind of rest he was longing for. It wouldn't change anything about him being scared and lonely. Did he really have to explain that?

“Sleeping has been the only thing I've been doing for...what? A week straight? Two? It's not helping!”

“Oh, do you want a tender hug from me now?”

It was oh-so-damn obviously not meant as a serious offer, but the very fact alone that he was being ridiculed made him so mad that he didn't even care.

“God, yes! Maybe that's _exactly_ what I want!”

For just a second, Vanitas lost his cool face and looked genuinely surprised, before turning away and shaking his head. Oh, really? How unexpected.

Somehow even more frustrated, Ventus decided to make some tea. That was something even he would be able to do without burning the place down – unless he'd want to, and the idea didn't sound so bad right now.

He was stopped before he could move to the counter, by a hand grabbing his wrist. It was unexpectedly warm, or maybe he was just cold, and the grasp was firm, however Vanitas's face was unreadable as always. He got up, not letting go, and only stared, as if he were waiting.

Oh.  _Oh._

But Ventus hesitated, remembering the last time Vanitas had offered him something – not a hug, but answers – and then tied him to the stupid chair. This time, he didn't look nearly as unhappy; rather tired, maybe. But that still didn't mean it was safe to trust him. He was a madman, unpredictable and dangerous.

And he was all Ventus currently had.

That thought alone made it so agonizingly easy to give in, look down to the floor and let go of the tears he hadn't even known he was holding back. The grip on his hand loosened, and he felt himself being pulled into a rather rough hug. Even so – distant, awkward – he couldn't think of anything more soothing right now. He wasn't being treated like a fragile doll. There was no patting on his back, no comforting words. Just a short moment, allowing him to free himself from the pain and trouble weighing him down.

It was anything but forever, and that's why he should let go before even starting to embrace it. Accept that this was just a facade, a lie, and turn his back on it. Face reality, however cruel it might be.

But it felt so good, so indescribably  _relieving_ , that he instead clung to Vanitas, hands desperately grabbing his shirt, face buried in his neck, and let it all out. His pain, his fear, all depicted in ugly sobs and uncontrolled shaking.

It felt like a second, a minute, an eternity, but eventually, it was reassuring that Ventus himself was the one to let go first, even if he didn't think he was ready yet. It had to be enough, at least for now.

“I'm so sorry.”

His voice was weak, dry, and hard to be heard, but it didn't seem to matter. Vanitas looked pained, as if he actually  _cared_ . No, it wasn't like he felt bad for Ventus, but more like it hurt him personally to experience this, to be part of this terrible situation.

“It's alright,” he eventually answered, his voice very obviously stating that nothing was alright. “I would still very much prefer for it to not become some kind of norm.”

The wording was a little off, like he was trying to say it with as little malice to it as possible, but it still had Ventus raise his eyebrows in confusion.

“Me being sad? Are you an idiot?”

Vanitas passionately rolled his eyes and turned away, seemingly both ready to drop down in the chair in defeat and at the same time throw the very same chair through the room. It was really hard to say which one was predominant.

In the end, he decided to do none of those, and instead turned back, looking tired, as if he wanted nothing more than to put an end to all of it – which would be great, if he did it by explaining what was going on. What he did explain, though, wasn't anything like what Ventus had expected.

“Do you need to make this any more difficult? It's hard enough to harm you. Any kind of emotional bond with you is the exact last thing I need.”

For a moment, Ventus had to believe he had misheard that.  _Hard enough to harm him_ ? Was this guy in any way for real?

“Are you kidding me here? You tie me up, cut my face open and put me through different kinds of mental terror, and you have the audacity to tell me it's _hard for you?!”_

He had barely finished speaking when he found himself stumble backwards to the counter when Vanitas approached him again, visibly unhappy with everything he had just heard. And he didn't stop. Instead, he came close enough to grab Ventus by the collar. How ironic it would be if he did one of those things again now. Tie him up, cut him, any of it. But he seemed to feel the irony himself, because all he did was snort before letting go again.

“You…have no idea how I feel. That's good. That's the _idea_. But with all of this, you're pushing it a bit too far.”

This time, he left the kitchen, and he would've probably left the whole apartment, too, to go wherever. But just this once, Ventus decided not to let that happen. So he pushed himself from the counter and followed.

“None of this is good!”

No reaction – he hadn't expected one either.

“If you don't want me to understand, then you're wrong! None of whatever you're trying to do here is going to work like this! Are you really this blind?!”

Even though it was nothing but accusations and negative words, Vanitas actually stopped. He didn't turn back around, but he seemed to consider the words. Then, without warning, he sighed – it was more like a groan – and dropped onto the sofa. That was…something new, at least.

“I wish I could say I wasn't just thinking the same thing.”

“Huh?”

“It's not working.”

_Quite obviously_ , he thought. Hadn't that been crystal clear before? It was not even like everything had been bad – that would've been tolerable. No, more than that, there were times where they got along, and that made all the bad times even worse.

“And you expected it to?”

It was a rhetoric question, because he  _had_ without a doubt thought it would work. Otherwise, he wouldn't have kept it up for so long, right?

“There's a saying that goes: _If you can't have both, always prefer being feared over being loved._ ”

“Never heard of that.”

That, of course, didn't matter much. But Ventus also didn't understand what it was supposed to mean, and that  _did_ matter.  At first, it looked like he wasn't going to get an explanation, and he was honestly getting very sick of that. It wasn't like he failed to understand these things on purpose – all of this just didn't line up with the life he'd been living up until now.

He walked over to the sofa and leaned over the backrest a little. The look he got was...a little different. Not bored as usually, but the fatigue he'd seen earlier also seemed to have vanished. Frustrated? God, he didn't know. 

“What I'm saying is: People are more likely to cooperate out of fear than out of sympathy. It's such an easy concept, and it's entirely beyond me how you manage to refuse to defer to it.”

An easy concept?

Ventus found himself chuckling, even though unamused about it. That was so entirely stupid, he didn't want to believe it. So all of this, him being scared for his life, and the actual pain and torture he had been put through…it had been but an expedient so that he would obey some stupid unspoken rules?

“That really is the dumbest thing you've said in a long while.”

“It's not stupid.”

Vanitas sat back up, narrowed his eyebrows and straightened his shirt a bit. He seemed uncomfortable, even though he tried to hide it, and even more things seemed to bother him.

This was the best opportunity ever, so Ventus decided to just take it, and sat down on the sofa's armrest. Maybe now, he would finally get a few answers to what exactly was going on here, even if he didn't believe that it would be too much.

“If you want me to cooperate, your safest bet is to give me a good reason to. And, well, yeah. I might be scared, but just because you hurt me doesn't mean I'll obey your orders – on the contrary.”

“Yeah, I realized you're a little dumb.”

“Dumb? Excuse me!”

He didn't remember too many things that would classify him as stupid. Yes, okay, in hindsight it might have been smarter to be more cautious about being threatened. The thing with his phone surely had been weird as well, but really? There were terrible people out there – he knew what being bullied felt like, so he hadn't considered it being  _life-threatening._

“Even tied to a chair, facing what could have been death, you were too stubborn to just beg for mercy.”

“How...how is that dumb? Would anyone who actually wants to kill me care about me begging him to stop?”

It felt like a normal question to himself, and that was why he didn't understand the shocked look Vanitas gave him for it. Wasn't that true? If someone's sympathy for him was low enough to kill him, then why would they suddenly have mercy?

Instead of answering the question, Vanitas got up and moved over to the dresser, got something out of one of the lower drawers, and handed it over to Ventus. It was...a badge? The shape reminded him of a raven flying toward the person looking at it, and for reasons he didn't understand, he felt like he had seen it before.

“Ring a bell to you?”

He shook his head, then nodded. Why did trying to remember give him such a headache?

“It's like...I've seen this before, but years ago. I can't explain it.”

He expected Vanitas to look annoyed, roll his eyes or get mad. Instead, he just nodded and walked around slowly, as if it helped him think about something. The sudden turn of events was a little scary to Ventus. This whole day so far had been an unhealthy mixture of every possible emotion between them, and it wasn't getting easier as time was passing by.

“Don't get me wrong, but why are you suddenly so...amenable?”

“Because I don't have time to waste on trying to make you do what I say. If this is how you work, I hardly have a choice.”

He seemed to believe that, even though Ventus didn't. Of course Vanitas had a choice, right? Just leave and go live this weird life he had elsewhere. Out of all questions, he still hadn't answered the biggest one – why was it Ventus whose life he was tarnishing?

“You'd have to waste a lot less time if I simply understood what's going on. I don't have your level of self-control, and even if I did, it would be easier to make use of it if you made sense to me.”

They stared at each other for a good minute without anyone saying a word. Instinctively, Ventus sunk into the sofa a bit more, letting himself drop from the armrest onto the seat.  He knew it looked ridiculous, because he peeked over the backrest like a kid scared of a clown, but he couldn't help it. Even now, he wasn't sure if the calm would last.

“None of this is anything you'd want to understand.”

“Oh, sure. I'd rather just be kept prisoner for nothing – are you serious? As I see it, I'm not getting out of this anyway, so you might as well let me in. I don't want to die here.”

He knew that was hardly a sufficing reason. It didn't explain why he hadn't run away long ago, or why he wasn't trying right now – all things considered, it might actually be his best chance in a long while. But he  _wanted_ these answers. No one would possibly take the time to pick him out of all people and make his life hell if there wasn't some sort of reason for it. He couldn't accept that. There needed to be more to it.

“If you want me to be honest with you, how about you start? You had your fair chance to at least _try_ and run so you wouldn't die. You never did, though.”

“I...yeah, you're right. Other than being scared of what else could happen if I tried...please don't tell me it's me for nothing.”

He gestured around, as if trying to explain that he was talking about the entire situation they were in. This living arrangement, the fact that he hadn't left this place in so agonizingly long, their weird relationship that was far from friendship and somehow even further from resentment.

“Just...tell me my life isn't turning into hell because we looked at each other once weeks ago.”

For whatever reason, Vanitas laughed humorlessly at that. It sounded disappointed, maybe even hurt. Ventus didn't understand. It was nothing but the truth, really – they'd met that one day at the university, and ever since then, Vanitas had been glued onto him.

“How is that funny?”

“It's not. It's not.”

He sat back down, closed his eyes and shook his head. Was he going insane? Something about these words seemed to bother him so much that he couldn't control himself, and it was scary.

“How do you feel?”

What kind of question was that supposed to be now? Ventus thought about not even answering that, because it was so blatantly obvious that he was feeling terrible, wasn't it? Still, they were finally talking properly, and that was what he had wanted.

“Awful.”

“How about a slight bit more of detail?”

“Oh, fine. My body is exhausted in all ways I can imagine. I'm tried even though I shouldn't be, my lungs burn, I want to cry, and I'm having the worst headache in the history of headaches. Do you need more?”

“Yes.”

Wait, seriously? Somehow, it was liberating, so Ventus didn't question it, and just went on.

“I have absolutely no idea what I'm supposed to think, let alone do. Nothing makes sense to me, not being locked here, not being threatened, mugged or in any other way assaulted. This whole thing is absolutely terrible! Did I mention I just want to cry my eyes out?!”

“Do it then.”

“ _Do it then_ , he says! After telling me, what was it again? It shouldn't become some kind of norm for me to be sad? Thanks for changing your mind, but no.”

He realized he was shouting now, and decided to shut up. Up until now, he had been able to hold his tears back quite well, but if he went on, he wasn't sure if he'd still be able to.

“I did not change my mind. But seeing you wither away doesn't help either, so what choice do I have?”

“Oh, how about you just start somewhere? What kind of big secret is this that you can't tell me anything about it? There has to be _something_ you can share!”

He kept staring at Vanitas, who had opened his eyes again and focused on a random point on the wall. Apparently, he still wasn't sure if opening up would do them any good or just make things worse.  But how were they supposed to get worse if this was already as terrible as could be?

“How much do you remember of your childhood?”

Another very random question, but at least this time the answer wasn't as obvious. Ventus had never given that much though. He remembered some birthday parties, small achievements throughout his time at school…

“Some random stuff I guess?”

“Your earliest memory, then?”

“Hm...first day of school, I guess? I think I was seven, about the oldest of the class, but still the shortest. I remember the picture we took. I was barely able to carry the candy cone.”

Thinking about it now, that really was the first thing he remembered, and trying to think further into the past made his head feel like it was going to explode. Was that normal? Was he trying too hard to dig out memories that weren't important.

It also reminded him that lately, he had often been feeling like he was forgetting something important, something seriously  _vital_ , and it never came back. Were these things somehow connected? Because right now, that feeling was stronger than ever.

“Am I going nuts?” he asked himself quietly, and flinched when a hand touched his shoulder. It helped him focus on reality, not his weird thoughts, and it was comforting, so he leaned onto it just a slight bit.

“Do you remember your parents?”

“What…? What are you talking about? I talked to them a month ago, of course I remember!”

“No, Ven. I guarantee you, you didn't.”

It was a joke, right? It had to be a joke. Something about it being...like, more than a month by now. It had no other meaning, it couldn't...he wouldn't be able to accept anything else. Even the theory starting to bloom in his head, he just wanted to get it out.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

_ Please. Please. Please don't say it. Don't say it's all a lie. _

“It means your parents are long, _long_ dead.”

If his reality were a house of card, it would right now be deflating like a damaged balloon. He wanted to back away, scream, cry and ask if any of that was supposed to be a dumb joke – but he knew better. There was absolutely no reason for it to be a lie. It was weird to just believe it, but he found himself unable to have doubts. It was true. 

_ It's true. _

“How would you even know about something like that?!”

_ It can't be true. _

He finally gave up on holding the tears in. For what, really, if the only person here already knew in how much pain he was anyway? He hung, shook his head, tore his hair, sobbed and sunk into the soothing touch on his shoulder. He didn't care if he was welcomed, or if it was an offer for some more comfort. Instead, he just leaned in and begged that he wouldn't be rejected. And he wasn't.

“You don't remember anything, do you? The memory has to be hidden somewhere, but I don't know how to trigger it. Your hometown, can you recall that?”

Hometown? Nothing came to mind but the city he had grown up in, with his friends, his  _family_ – whatever that still meant at this point.

“Nothing.”

“Small town rather far from bigger cities. It was nice. Well, until it was torn down and destroyed.”

“Why would anyone do that?!”

Vanitas hesitated, but Ventus wasn't willing to let this go  _now_ , where things made even less sense than before.

“Child trafficking. And, what did they officially call it? Right. A _terrorist attack._ Whoever believes that.”

Ventus felt some kind of memory trying to return to him. It was warm – and not in a good way. More like fire chasing him down, screaming. Fear, anger, anxiety, but he was unable to put them in a working order. There was no bigger picture, just frames.

“Wait...wait. I lived in a small town, cut off from cities and anything of the likes. Okay. Hard to imagine, but I'll believe that. I'll try.”

He took a deep breath, still trying to figure things out.

“I still don't get it, though. As I see it, I was neither sold away nor killed in some sort of attack, so...it seems they didn't entirely obliterate the town, right?”

Vanitas nodded shortly, but still snorted scornfully. The hand he had placed on Ventus's shoulder was shaking. It was almost unnoticeable, but for him, who was usually more controlled than a normal person should be able to be, it made so much of a difference that it was frightening. This was getting to him just as much as to Ventus. But how…

_ How? _

“Sure, whatever. As if two people made much of a difference.”

_ Two people. _

It was like a lightning bolt hitting him, sending a stream of energy right through his entire body, only to fade as if nothing had happened. And it was enough to bring back the memory so clearly that it felt like he had never forgotten it.


	11. Playground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's really just a small snippet of the past. No big reveals, as they obviously already happened before, but I still wanted to give it a little something for reasons to be explained later.

“Don't go over there, Ventus.”

“Yeah, that kid's so weird.”

The kid named Ventus just smiled silently and ignored his friends' words. They'd been playing on the swings together, helping each other because their feet couldn't reach the ground yet. But suddenly, he had spotted a boy he kept seeing here. He was probably a bit older than them, and was always to be seen working on something, sitting on the same bench every single time. Ventus had never seen him come here, and never seen him leave. If he didn't know better, he'd say the boy was here all day.

He didn't know why today, he really felt like talking to him. Maybe he was curious, or wanted to be nice. He didn't exactly have many friends himself, and seeing someone be  _all_ alone just made him sad, he figured.

“Hey, uh…,” he started sheepishly, backing away when the boy looked up. His eyes weren't anything Ventus had ever seen before. A shimmering shade of golden that looked too unreal to be true, and yet...it was.

“What do you want?”

He didn't sound happy to be disrupted in whatever he was doing, and not very interested in talking. But Ventus wouldn't give up that fast, and instead pointed to what the other boy was holding in his hands.

“What are you doing there?”

“Why would you care?”

“You looked lonely over here.”

After he'd said the words, Ventus realized they didn't sound nice. That wasn't what you were supposed to say out loud, right? Even if it was true.

Without being asked to, he sat down on the bench as well and patiently waited for an answer. The look he was given wasn't really assuring, but nothing bad had happened so far, so he felt safe enough.

“Aren't your friends scared of you sitting next to a monster?”

“A...monster?”

“I'm not deaf. I know what your friends call me.”

Ventus's eyes widened in shock. Maybe his friends really had said that before, he wasn't sure. But either way, it was a terrible thing to say, and entirely uncalled for.

“I think you're just a regular kid, you know.”

They both dropped silent, and Ventus watched the other work on the big grayish box. It looked old, almost ancient, but he didn't dare what it was yet again.

“It's a camera, stupid. I've been collecting bits and pieces of old, broken ones.”

“A _camera_? We don't have anything like that!”

Now he was definitely hooked. He'd seen one or the other camera before, but never had one himself – and he doubted that his parents did, either. If they did, it was definitely smaller than this huge box.

“Ventus, come on! We want to go home!”

He looked up and over to his friends, who hadn't dared to get any closer to them. They were right. Even though their homes weren't far from the playground, they shouldn't stay outside until it got dark, or all their parents would be worried. Getting up, he made a decision.

“Hey. If you manage to actually make it work, I want to see the first picture you take!”

“Sure.”

The boy sounded a lot less reluctant to talk now, even though he still focused on what he was working at. That was good enough for now.

“I'm Ventus, by the way. But you can call me Ven!”

This time, he finally did look up, and a smirk formed at the corners of his lips before he spoke.

“Vanitas.”

With a wide grin, Ventus nodded, finally turning around to run back to his friends, who were getting a bit impatient by now.

He wouldn't have been able to say why, but somehow, he felt like this was going to be something very special.


	12. Damage Containment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this one took a while.  
> The end of this includes some more explicit physical torture, although this time not inflicted on one of the main characters.

“No…I…”

Unable to understand what was going on, Ventus tried to find something to cling onto, eventually grabbing the hand that was still lying on his shoulder. One of them was shaking, or maybe it was them both, he didn't know, and he didn't understand anything.

“How could I ever…”

“You seem to remember.”

He nodded, although not sure if that was really true. It was like the bigger picture of his past had returned, but no further details regarding it.

“How could you _keep this from me?!”_

His confusion turned into anger. Had all of this hostility and pain really been necessary, instead of just letting him in on what had happened? He wanted to understand, to be able to fathom how not knowing a thing had been a benefit to any of them.

“For what? You didn't even remember my _name_ when I threw it at you. You wouldn't have believed a single thing.”

“I remembered now!”

Although it was true that he didn't know  _why_ he was able to remember things suddenly. Thinking about it, though, he had simply cast away the thought of Vanitas being his enemy, and that made it a lot easier to accept truths that he would have discarded as lies before.

Of course it still left a million of unanswered questions, and raised even more on top. Why were they in this situation, how had they lost track of each other, and how had they even survived the annihilation of a whole town?

Instead of any answers, the look Vanitas gave him made things even worse, because through it, Ventus realized…

He had forgotten all these things. About their past and whatever terrible event had torn them apart. Even now, it were only bits and pieces that returned to him.

But Vanitas hadn't forgotten  _any_ of it. He'd been living on, knowing Ventus didn't remember a single thing. And he'd kept it to himself for who-knew how long.

“I'm sorry…,” he found himself mumbling and looked down to his crossed legs. Of course he still lacked the explanation for what was going on, but the fact that Vanitas had taken the time to find him and apparently keep him at least partly safe from some other people…it was enough to make him feel very bad.

“You said they obliterated the town. How could we possibly have survived that?”

“We were…well, I'll just say _lucky enough_ to be a little out of town. Maybe we're not the sole survivors, but I never managed to find anyone else – and I _did_ find you.”

It sounded like Vanitas was actually somewhat proud of that, and it made Ventus wonder how long he had actually been  _trying_ to find him before being successful.

“My head hurts trying to figure things out. I remember you working on that rusty old camera everyday, and that I always wondered if you even had a home.”

“I just preferred being outside.”

“You've changed a lot.”

That wasn't really an answer to the statement, but more an overall observation. Now, of course Vanitas had changed – he wasn't a kid anymore, and instead a grown-up man. But what was it that had changed him into  _who_ he was now, opposed to a kid spending their time trying to get a simple thing like a camera to work?

“I mean, other than growing up. What happened, how and why didn't they catch us?”

“They caught us.”

“But?” 

Ventus was confused by the statement. If that was true, why were they here now? He doubted that he out of all people would have been able to flee from a kidnapper.

“Can we skip these hero-esque stories?”

Even though he got a general idea where this was going, he wanted to  _hear_ it. Narrowing his eyes, he waited, unwilling to let the topic drop.

“You managed to flee, end of the story.”

“Oh? What about you, then?”

Vanitas gave him a very annoyed look before turning his head away. Maybe that was answer enough to it. If they'd been together, and only one of them had gotten away…

Deciding to drop the topic for now, Ventus went on to the next.

“Fine. What about my parents? Child-me runs away from kidnappers, winds up in a big city and gets adopted by a loving family? That's a bit cliché, I feel.”

“Hard to say, but what else would they do? If they managed to let you forget the memories in the course of therapies, it's highly possible.”

_Therapy._

He had been going to therapy as a young teenager, but that had been because of his inability to sit still and concentrate on things. There were definitely no memories of anything else, although he also didn't know how old he had been back then.

“Still, no one ever mentioned anything, _ever_. I was raised to believe I was just some random city kid. What about the people who were after us?”

“I'm not telling you any details.”

Sighing, Ventus hung his head. Wasn't there a way to prove that he would keep these things to himself? After all, he never left his apartment anyway lately, and he also didn't call anyone.

“Why don't you trust me?”

“I do. At least try to understand it, Ven. There's only so much anyone can take before spilling the information they have.”

He angrily shook his head.

“Oh, what?! Just try and force me to tell you things I don't want to! I'm a lot more stubborn than you think, and I deserve some sort of truth here!”

He tried to calm himself down by shutting up, but it helped nothing. It wasn't exactly madness that was flooding him, but honest despair and the fear of having to be in this situation forever without finding out why.

Without giving him a chance to fight back, Vanitas suddenly grabbed him by the collar and pushed him into lying position, only to sit down on his hips and give him a fairly creepy, murderous look. But that was what Ventus had asked for, right? Rather indirectly, but still. He wasn't backing down now.

“You have absolutely no clue what you're saying,” he was told and found himself laughing bitterly at it.

“You're so right. Because having no clue about things seems to be what I'm best at anyway, right? Don't think I'm taking my words back.”

They both fell silent and stared at each other. It gave Ventus time to yet again study the long scar on Vanitas's neck, and right now, it scared him more than ever. How old was it actually, and what or  _who_ had caused it back then? Part of him wanted to know, and at the same time, he thought that the answer might be unbearable.

He tried not to expect anything bad when one hand slowly caressed his cheek, but this  _was_ Vanitas after all, and hardly anything about him was not scary. But when he spoke, it actually made it seem like the action was genuine.

“I'm not proud to admit it, but…I doubt I _could_ do that.”

Surprised about that, Ventus raised an eyebrow. Couldn't do what? Torture him? That was weird, considering in small amounts, it had already happened.

“Why not? It'd be a means to an end and you kind of already did it.”

“Are you honestly comparing a few cuts to how far I would have to go? You really are an idiot.”

“ _Oh_ , so now you're telling me you have scruples?”

Provocation usually seemed to be the way to make Vanitas tick, although Ventus never would have thought that he would actually aim for that ever.  This time however, it didn't work, as Vanitas just rolled his eyes at him.

“I'm not doing it, and that's that.”

If that was so, Ventus decided, he was done here as well, and he started trying to push Vanitas off of himself – a for effort, but failing miserably. Not only was their power gap ridiculous, but their respective positions made that even worse.

“Give up. You're well aware I'm stronger.”

“Get _off_ me! Where's the sense in talking to you if you won't talk to _me_?! I'm sick of you and I'm sick of all of this! Let me leave!”

“So you can get other people in danger as well? See, that's why I can't let you in on this. You're driven by instinct and that's incredibly dangerous.”

Ventus immediately stopped fighting and blinked multiple times, trying to understand the words. As if it made any kind of difference how he acted. He heavily doubted that he would get any more information by acting less emotionally about these things.

“Just give me… _something._ I'm not even asking any detail on what's going on, just a basic, you know…concept of this horror.”

So far, all he knew was that they had apparently survived the annihilation of a city. That probably meant that the threats he had gotten recently were directly tied to that. But why? Did it really matter if two of those people were still alive?

“Well, regarding the people after us…as I mentioned earlier, press called it out as a terrorist attack. But truth be told, our home was right in the center of a huge potential industrial area.”

It took a moment, but when Ventus understood what that meant, he inhaled sharply, his eyes widening.

“Are you telling me there's some serious high-up companies after this? But…wait. Did they just let it happen, or are they actually _behind_ it?!”

“It was more like…a deal. Imagine you're the head of an organization that specializes on child trafficking, and you see newspaper reports of discussions about depopulating a town, with the inhabitants fighting against their own deportation vehemently. And then you get the chance to have a nice talk with one of the companies who's _very_ desperate to get their project to work.”

It was left as only half an explanation, but it was more than enough for Ventus to understand. Whoever was behind the child trafficking had offered to wipe the town from existence, probably under the condition of some sort of immunity.

“That's sick,” was all he managed to say before flinching heavily – and realizing that Vanitas had done so, as well – because there was someone loudly knocking on the door. 

“Are you expecting someone?”

“No.”

The question was clearly rhetoric anyway,  and Vanitas had already gotten up before waiting for the answer. 

“It…might just be a neighbor?” Ventus suggested lightly, although he wasn't sure if he believed that. They hadn't been loud or anything, so there was no reason to angrily knock like that all out of sudden.

“Possibly. Either way, no word until I say so. You hear me?”

“Loud and clear.”

He sat back up, honestly starting to hope it really was just a neighbor. Needless to say,  his hopes were crushed within mere seconds by loud noise coming from the hall. It took only a few seconds before Vanitas re-entered the room, dragging something…no,  _someone_ along.

It was a young man, probably only a few years older than them, and he was knocked unconscious. The first detail Ventus noticed was a badge on the man's jacket – the same kind of raven Vanitas had shown him before.

“I am actually mildly surprised they suddenly go so far – and in such obviously dumb ways. I wonder if you're just testing me.”

Ventus almost replied something, before remembering he had been told not to and realizing that Vanitas was talking to himself entirely.  So instead, he found himself watching as the man was positioned on a chair Vanitas had brought from the kitchen, and tied onto it. That wasn't exactly the view Ventus dreamed to have right in front of his TV, but he wouldn't dare say a word, so he waited while Vanitas checked the man for – whatever, really.

“He's clean, I suppose. I was sure he'd have some sort of, you know, microphone or something, but there's nothing that wouldn't be too concealed to be able to record. So, what do you think?”

The question meant nothing to Ventus. What had they been talking about before this? He couldn't remember it being something that would even need to be answered right now, so he just shook his head, narrowing his eyes.

“I meant what you think I should do with him as soon as he comes to. You know…in order to get out of him what I want.”

That was when it hit him. Vanitas wasn't even mad about this guy showing up right now, because it gave him an opportunity to showcase what he had  _just_ stated. And the way he was standing there, smirking a little as if this was an act about to open up for an audience…it was scary.  _He_ was scary. And Ventus shivered at the sight.

“I…,” he started slowly, waiting to be shut down because there had been no _direct_ signal he was supposed to talk again, but nothing happened, so he went on. “You don't really want me to answer that.”

It was an easy way out for him,  and  he didn't even feel bad about it. He didn't  _want_ to think of anything that could be done to a person in order to get answers out of them. Of course  there were some basic things even he was aware that people could do to torture someone. But that didn't mean he wanted to dive into these thoughts.

“You seemed so incredibly _eager_ on it, didn't you? How about I extend your horizon?”

He wanted to say  _how about no_ but instead didn't answer at all and tried his best to not look at the man he noticed coming to slowly. He tried to move a bit, realized he was tied up and started fighting against it, obviously without much effort. The only thing he ended up doing was knock the chair and himself over, effectively landing on his face.

“What a splendid idea. I could have come up with this,” Vanitas mumbled eerily, seemingly not planning to pick the chair back up yet.

“So, what brings you here? Naivety? Courage? Dumbness?”

“I ain't telling you anything, you piece of shit,” the man replied loudly and with a strong accent, even though it was a bit muffled by him talking into the carpet. Instead of getting mad about the insult, Vanitas laughed evilly before finally setting the chair upright, only to lunge and break the guys nose in one heavy swing, making him spit a tooth and blood.

“Not the answer I expected, but that explains everything. It's really too bad for you that I'm in quite the need for an idiot like you. And that you catch me in such a foul mood.”

Ventus held back a disgusted snicker. It was not like Vanitas ever seemed to be in a very good mood, but him downright saying that he was in a bad one...this was going to be terrible.

“Is he really worth dirtying your hands?” Ventus asked instead, trying to talk some sense into this cruel insanity, even though he knew he was partly responsible for it. Still, this wasn't what he wanted, at all. There was no point to this.

“You're a genius,” Vanitas replied, his eyes widening a bit before he turned around and went to grab something from the cubby. Somehow, that made things even worse, and when he came back, there was no doubt about why.

“That's not what I meant.”

“Oh, you did. You just don't know it yet."

He was sloppily turning a hammer in his right hand, and put a small box as well as some tape on the table. Ventus didn't even have to look to know that there were nails in that box. And he only noticed that the man on the chair had started screaming when suddenly it was shut down by his mouth being taped shut.

“Ah, much better. I prefer my victims crying silently, their eyes begging for mercy they know they aren't getting, you know?”

Even though the words weren't directed at him, Ventus felt like running away. And he noticed that the man did, too. There was no logical reason to feel bad for him, but the way he was sitting there, his eyes getting wet with the realization that he was nothing here – maybe some sort of bait; there had to be some reason he had made his way to them – and that not only he wasn't getting out of this alive, but there wasn't even any kind of mercy in Vanitas's words that implied him dying painless ly …

It was disgusting to even just watch, no matter if he was a bad person or not.

“How fortunate,” Vanitas went on, now finally picking some of the nails from the box, causing Ventus to finally look away and focus on _anything_ but this scenario. “That you're not even interesting enough for the whole procedure. So, which finger would you like me to start with?”

There was something in his voice, not amusement or joy, but still fairly similar, and Ventus begged he would just shut up. That, he figured, was part of the reason Vanitas  _didn't_ . It was part of the torture.

“Oh, I almost forgot you can't reply!”

He obviously hadn't, and that made the statement so much worse. Ventus didn't want to look, but it was like a bad accident. He looked away, then back to Vanitas, who was half-kneeling and grinning like a madman, looking like he had almost forgotten he wasn't alone.

“I'll just pick one then.”

And without further ado, he placed one of the nails over the man's index finder on the armrest and, with one heavy hit, nailed it down into the wood. He seemed to know where to hit in order to avoid hitting a bone so it would be a smoother movement.  It still made a horrible sound, and the victim visibly tried to flee in some way, tears now running down his cheeks.

Ventus reached out without even knowing why. He wanted this to stop, no matter how much he'd said he could take it. It wasn't true, and he was an idiot.

“Huh?”

Snapping out of it, Vanitas looked over to him, the grin fading and his eyes narrowing in concern.

“You are aware that this is hardly even the beginning.”

It wasn't a question, but Ventus still nodded, finally lowering his head. He wanted to cover his ears and close his eyes to shut it all out, even though he knew it wouldn't help. Even though this whole scenario had already been real before, now it was even more painfully so.

“And now, say,” Vanitas had stopped in his actions and casually sat down on the sofa. “How you can possibly expect me to do this to you.”

_Hurt._

This was what he was radiating, other than insanity.

“You don't seem to mind too much,” Ventus explained silently, although he knew that wasn't a fair thing to say. This man…he meant nothing to Vanitas. He was barely more than dirt in his eyes, especially since he had tried to hurt them first.

“I don't. I would torture and slaughter this worthless excuse for a human without a second thought any day. But you know it's entirely different with you.”

Ventus nodded, still without looking up. He was feeling sick, and wishing that he could just wake up from this way too real nightmare.

“Go.”

And he did, although it was more running. He didn't even have the time to apologize for what he had said, but hoped that his reaction was obvious enough about it. Maybe, he figured right before vomiting his soul out, he didn't actually want to know all of this that much.


	13. Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was...kind of tricky. There's probably some errors in it, but I really need to get it out of my face for now and read through it again later.

At some point, after starting to feel like he had vomited his organs out, Ventus had found the strength to brush his teeth, but that was about it, since right afterwards, he found himself lying flat on the bathroom carpet, crying _again_ , even though it wasn't loud sobbing, but just tears silently running down his cheeks.

After some time – in the middle of the night, as the clock had told him – he'd heard the front door fall into the frame, but other than that, everything was and had been silent. Somehow, it didn't give him any more energy to get up and leave the bathroom, though. Who knew what he would find outside?

It was a bit cruel, how Vanitas just left him here after something like that, but then again, he had _asked_ for it – and so much more than that, really. He should probably be grateful that he hadn't been forced to watch more than what he'd seen, if anything.

The sound of the front door closing again made him flinch, although he wasn't too worried. Who could it possibly be? He listened to the footsteps coming closer, the bathroom door being tossed open fully, and obeyed to a pair of arms forcing him to sit up.

“I don't want this,” he mumbled without thinking. “I'm not ready to die yet, but this is so, so much worse…”

He didn't get a reply, but a lift to his bed, which was definitely a lot more comfortable than some thin fabric on a cold floor. Still, it didn't change anything about how horrible he felt. For the first time since all of this had begun, he seriously started to wonder if he should end his life to get out of this – and the thought was so real that it downright scared him. But wouldn't it really be better than potentially ending where that man had ended, one day?

Instead of saying anything, Vanitas just sat down next to him on the bed and stared. Ventus didn't care much about that, but he was desperate enough to sit up and shyly reach out. He knew he was pushing his limits again, but he _needed_ this support, and he needed it right now. And he got lucky, this once, for he was being pulled into a hug without complaints – although it was more them leaning onto each other, but that was okay.

“I'm no good at this,” Vanitas stated monotonously, and it was probably true, but for now, it was good enough.

“I'll find out, one day. The things that made you so cold towards the world, towards people. Why all the good things are so hard to you, while the bad ones are easy.”

“There's a reason I know how to thoroughly torture a person – don't you dare ask.”

Ventus wouldn't have, especially right now, since the thought alone was already scary enough.

“I still don't get why they suddenly start attacking us.”

“That guy was hardly more than bait. They want to test if we're careful or not. And they have enough volunteers, considering they tend to promise them ridiculous rewards.”

Personally, it still didn't make sense to him how someone could just play along in hurting others to get some rewards – it was disgusting and inhumane.

“I feel awful,” he found himself mumbling quietly before trying to get up – getting an anything but happy look as an answer to that. “I just want to take a shower, okay?”

Vanitas didn't really look okay with him fighting to keep himself on his feet, but let it happen without another word. He could have offered his help, but Ventus was glad that he didn't. If he weren't even able to do _that_ alone anymore…

Slowly, he made his way over to his wardrobe, and picked some fresh, comfortable clothes. At least not going out meant that he could wear whatever ugly comfy stuff he owned without anyone batting an eye.

He felt his legs dare to give in, but forced himself to stand still, take deep breaths and calm down. It was no good. He needed to wash all of this disgust off himself, before the pictures in his head could get even more detailed.

_Blood. Breaking bones. Muffled screams._

No. Thinking about it didn't change a damn thing, and he wouldn't break down _again_ right now.

“I'm starting to doubt you can do this on your own.”

The look he gave Vanitas was toxic, although it didn't do much, as he only got a raised eyebrow as a reply – naturally, he figured. Just how frightening could the sight of him be, other than looking like a corpse?

It didn't matter if he _could_ do this on his own – he simply needed to. Maybe to assure himself that he was not yet entirely useless. Or to try and make himself believe that there was a chance of him surviving all of this.

He made it up to the bathroom's door frame before everything went black for hardly more than a second. For once, he was glad he had been followed, as Vanitas's reflexes were fast enough to catch him before he could kiss the floor.

“Ventus. You're no good to me if you're _dead_.”

“Oh?! That's funny!” he shot back, however not fighting against being helped over to the bathtub to sit down sloppily. “Because looking at this situation, it feels like that's exactly what you're aiming for!”

His words weren't fair, and he knew it. Vanitas wasn't the grand evil in all this – Ventus understood that now. But there was no one else to blame around and he was both mentally _and_ physically wrecked. It wasn't an excuse for his outburst, although he wished it was.

The look Vanitas gave him was pained, and it made Ventus want to apologize for what he'd said. He wasn't in the position to mope about feeling bad, as he himself had summoned it.

“I…”

“No. Don't say a word.”

He obeyed, not sure if he was in trouble now. The tone of the words wasn't evil or mad, which was a bit relieving, and at the same time burdening. Without a second thought, he leaned onto the hand now caressing his cheek like nothing was wrong, although the melancholy of their situation was even more present through that. None of this was right. And before he could even understand what was going on, Vanitas spoke again, violently crushing their silence with words that couldn't be more gentle.

“If I were to choose only one single person on this godforsaken planet that I do _not_ want to see dead, it would be you.”

With that, he got up, gave him another disapproving look, but left the room nonetheless, closing the door behind him. It was like someone had flicked a switch in his head, because suddenly, Ventus felt really cold. Just what on earth had this been?

In the last weeks, he had gladly accepted every opportunity to see himself as the victim – innocent, defenseless, treated unfairly – when really, he hadn't been good or nice at all, either. It was stupid, because he knew better; he knew it wasn't Vanitas's fault they were in this situation, and he also knew that all of this was hard on both of them. And still, he hadn't been looking for a solution in _himself_ at all, for a way to act better at least a bit.

Maybe the cooperation he had been asking for was something that not Vanitas was lacking, but he himself was. He'd been kept safe from these people for who-even-knew how long, and it seemed like now was _his_ time to do something to add to their relationship. But what?

Deciding to clear his mind first, he finally got up to take the shower he had come here for. It wasn't nearly as liberating as he thought it would be, and didn't help his growing headache in the slightest.

Thinking about it now, though, things actually made sense. Vanitas had said he didn't want him dead, and what other possible explanation could there actually be? It was not like Ventus was helping their situation – whatever it even was – in any kind of way.

He tried to shut his own thoughts up, wishing he could just stand here forever and let the boiling-hot water scar his body until he just dropped unconscious. Of course he shouldn't; it was time to turn it off and get out, but he had a hard time even just standing straight. What was going on?

Sure, he hadn't slept that well lately, and he still felt rather sick from the things he'd seen earlier. But suddenly, a numbing headache added to that. It took him a good while to realize he had hit his forehead on the wall, and even longer for him to step out of the shower before he could hurt himself even more.

“Will this hell ever end?” he asked himself before leaving the bathroom and heading for the next thing in sight – the sofa. He needed to sit somewhere and calm down.

“You're getting a fever.”

Until now, he had almost forgotten Vanitas would probably be waiting for him to get out, and he didn't really listen to the words either, instead letting himself drop into the cushions and closing his eyes. It helped with the pain, but not with the sickness. Being stuck in here for so long was slowly eating him up, and there was nothing he could do.

He felt a blanket being put onto him, causing him to open his eyes and regret it immediately. It was a nice gesture, and one he absolutely hadn't expected. Was Vanitas actually trying to be more patient with him?

“Unless there's something funny on my face, I fail to understand _that_ look.”

Realizing that he had suspiciously raised his eyebrows, Ventus decided to instead rolled over to he side and tried to put on a more neutral face. He was thankful for this, truly, but not sure what to make of it. There was no doubt Vanitas was still unhappy with him, and how much all of it exhausted him both mentally and physically. So even though it hardly changed anything in the long run, he felt the need to say:

“I'm sorry for this.”

And instead of doing anything he usually would – do nothing, hiss or raise an eyebrow – Vanitas actually _replied._

“What are you sorry about?”

He really was alarmingly nice now, as if he had snapped – just in the exact opposite way from how others would, because going nuts and insane was his _normal_ mood. Either way, he did raise an eyebrow now, almost looking like a petulant child the way he was sitting next to the sofa, both legs and arms crossed.

“All of this? I'm starting to understand this isn't your fault, yet I can't stop blaming you for what's happening to me, because I don't know who _is_ responsible. I should know better, yet I can't control myself.”

Noticing how his voice got thinner, Ventus sighed and shook his head. Now he was getting _whiny_ again, too.

“You're so frustrating.”

Confused by the answer, he tried to sit up a bit, only for Vanitas to push him back into the fabric with one hand and shake his head.

“Don't misunderstand me, Ven. It's fine you have this picture of me in your head – it's good, I created it on purpose.”

That he did indeed remember. They'd talked about, what was it exactly? Preferring being feared over being loved, as people were more likely to cooperate out of fright than sympathy. But that didn't mean it made more sense to him now than before, because it didn't.

“Which is what makes it frustrating that you're trying to get rid of it. That was never the idea, but seeing you wither like this…”

“Say it!”

Ventus knew that if he didn't keep this up now, he'd never get the answer. And even if he could have come up with one by himself, Vanitas never truly acted or felt like one expected him to. He needed to put it in words, and apparently he understood that, too, because he said:

“It hurts.”

Never before had Ventus felt the desperate need to _hug_ him, but right now it was all he could think of. The pained expression, the almost sheepish honesty in those glowing eyes…

Instead of giving him a chance to reply, Vanitas got up and brushed off the hand reaching for his, apparently certain he'd said enough for now. But Ventus felt like they weren't even close.

“Don't go away now.”

“I'm not. Stop pushing it.”

He wouldn't have, but the fact that Vanitas sounded more tired than mad made him rethink. They had lots of room for improvement, but maybe it really was better to approach it slowly, no matter how impatient of a person Ventus was.

He brought a hand to his head and massaged his temples, thinking about what to do now. First of all, he needed to get back up. Lying down had helped at least a bit, and he would probably stay like this until Vanitas returned from the kitchen – which he hopefully would soon, Ventus just chose to believe in that.

Of course he could just stay put, let life pass him by and accept the fact that he was trapped in the place that he should call home, that should be safe to him. But it hadn't worked so far, and considering that Vanitas left him alone more frequently lately, it was also more frightening.

He almost jumped when he was addressed again all out of sudden, and finally sat up to get out of this trance he had fallen into.

“I made you tea. Don't even _start_ complaining.”

He was handed a mug, and almost answered that he liked tea, when the smell of camomile made him wrinkle his nose. Disgusting.

“This is like the one kind of tea I hate.”

“I don't care. It has a lot of health benefits over other varieties and I'm not arguing about this. You need to get better.”

Rolling his eyes, he took a sip to imply that he was obeying, however still shook his head.

“For what, though? I'm literally useless. All I do is sit here and hate everything.”

Instead of replying, Vanitas stroked his hair a bit, almost vacantly, as if that were answer enough to it. Maybe it was, too.

_It hurts._

Of course. It was mentally wearing _him_ out, as well. Making Ventus hate him, for whatever reason, had been his goal. But seeing him turn into this emotional and physical mess…not so much.

Subconsciously, he leaned in. The touch was soothing, and he felt like he might have just fallen asleep, but he already heard the complaints about not even finishing the tea in his head. It made him smile a bit.

“You know, these times, when you're nice to me…Somehow I really like you a lot.”

The motion died _immediately_ , and he regretted his words a bit, but not enough to apologize or take them back. Wasn't it somehow obvious that he felt this way, though?

“You shouldn't.”

“Why not?”

Vanitas sighed loudly, turned to face him and narrowed his eyes. He looked as if he were trying to lecture a child about something painfully obvious, and to him, it seemed to feel that way, actually.

“You really don't understand this.”

_Of course I don't_ , Ventus wanted to scream. Hadn't he made that clear yet? Even now that he was thrown small bits and pieces, they still didn't create a bigger picture. Again, he was left with nothing but frames.

“Took you long enough to figure out.”

“Fine, if I have to.”

He watched Vanitas shift slightly, a small motion, but it meant a lot for him. This made him uncomfortable. Maybe even insecure. He wasn't sure what kind of impact the words he said next would have.

And really, if he'd been given an idea of what he was going to hear, Ventus wouldn't have asked for it so desperately. But he hadn't, leaving him entirely unprepared for the words he had silently feared he'd have to endure one day.

“Don't get attached to me, Ventus. Don't. It will only make it worse to bear if you lose me eventually.”

“Just don't leave again, then.”

He couldn't stop himself from sounding hurt. Now, that they were finally starting to get along with each other at least _somehow_ , he was going to lose that, too? Wasn't being locked in here enough already? All he asked for was some mental support, a reason to go on – yes, maybe just an _emotional bond_ , like Vanitas had called it, that assured him it wasn't over yet.

But things weren't going to be that easy, and that was only more obvious when a single tear he had failed to even notice was wiped off his cheek. It almost felt cherishing. It almost felt good.

It almost made him feel able to ignore the words he didn't want to hear or accept, even though they did nothing but _hurt._

“Ven. Nothing is certain for us but this one thing: If I'm ever left with no other choice, I will not hesitate for even a second to give my life for yours.”

 


End file.
